You Don't Know What You're Missing
by CaramelMonkPA
Summary: When you trick Death with a body swap, you may expect a severe backslash. You may be forced to love each other, or worst love yourself. Now begins the battle of wills between Hermione Granger, Severus Snape and the Grim Reaper. Read it and you might make Severus happy. Post-DH and EWE. Rated M for mature themes and situations.
1. Je Saigne Encore

_"Disclaimer: Submitted for your approval, an ALTERNATE universe in which J. K. Rowling's characters are entirely mine. Welcome to the Zone-that-cannot-be."_

**Chapter 1: Je Saigne Encore (Kyo)**

When it had become clear to Severus Snape that the final battle he had worked towards for so long was finally upon the castle with the key appearances of Potter and the Dark Lord, he had determinately swallowed the content of a phial. Anyone caring enough to examine him from that point on would have noticed his much ghastlier complexion. He was certainly being proactive for his last day on earth. He was anticipating finally paying his tribute, dying a martyr, and possibly getting absolution for his sins. Hell, he would settle for peace if forgiveness was forever out of his reach. Worst comes to worst, he would not have to deal with a world under the Dark Lord's rule.

If Albus was right, and he had better be after all he had put him through, his mission was to give Potter the pieces of information he lacked. Then, Severus would assess the situation and be ready to get revenge on the Dark Lord. He would die happy if he could at least hurt him. Severus could not see how Potter, that mediocre wizard, would be able to destroy the Dark Lord. Furthermore, he would rather not have the last trace of Lily Evans be tainted by murder, nor would he suffer the sight of James Potter's spitting image saving the day. As an added bonus, he might get posthumously celebrated as the savior of the wizarding world: "Severus Snape: The Unlikely Hero". That would be a kick in the nose to all those cretins who ever despised and mistreated him. He would go to his grave laughing at their stupidity.

The potion contained in the phial had been one of his latest creations, specifically ordered by the Dark Lord. Of course, he could have completed it earlier. But he had delayed the delivery as much as he reasonably could. Albus had argued it could only ingratiate him with the Dark Lord. Moreover, the people getting it would mainly be fanatic menaces. Thus, it served to lower the ranks of the Dark Lord.

Undeniably, part of his mystique came from his Death-defying stunts, although some whispered about Potter's similar ability. Consequently, he made Severus elaborate a potion that would allow him to "share" that power to reward faithful (expendable) followers. In the end, it was a tactic designated to encourage eagerness and awe while sending servants on dangerous errands. The Draught of Dead Living altered and strengthened the body structure and magic flow. As a result it could absorb the harmful effects of most magical attacks. What the lesser followers did not know was that the potency of the Draught depended on the power of the drinker and that after too severe an assault the drinker would fall into an inescapable coma, until his or her life-force had been extinguished. That is how the irreversible process would appear to guarantee survival.

Severus' creations for the Dark Lord always had a merciless efficiency about them. That was another thing that probably weighed on his soul. But while he caused damages with compulsively perfected tools, he did not cause more pain than necessary, not anymore at least. Being terminated by his own creation suited him, and would thankfully give him enough time to deliver his message.

He had thrown away the phial, acknowledging the ominous sound effect of the breaking glass. Clucking his tongue in distaste, he had realized he never had feedback on the bland taste, and the severe dryness that settled in his mouth. He would never get around to improving the potion. Joining his masked companions, he had scowled at his misplaced perfectionism. Truly, he should have learned to relax and stop overthinking work, especially ill-used potions. In another life, if such a thing existed, he might have entertained the notion of going on vacation, preferably somewhere sunny and isolated. But in the meantime, he had to make it through another meeting with the Dark Lord, probably to discuss battle strategy.

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**Notes for a smoother ride:**

_The sentences in italic are direct thoughts from the characters._

The peculiar uses of pronouns were deliberate and have everything to do with points of view.

Concerning the points of view, they are also revealed by particular uses of names, the default setting being the first names, because it is a fake writer's prerogative. ;-) For instance, here the staff is on first-name basis (except for Hagrid whom no one calls Rubeus, because truthfully they look down on him), although it is not always the case in the books.

If you are so inclined, pay attention to the chapter (song) titles which bring insights into the story. Sometimes, they are straightforward. Sometimes they have more to do with the general atmosphere, or a metaphorical inspiration. Just keep in mind, once again, that the points of view may not be what you expect.

I based this story on the books more than the films. I hope you can keep an open mind concerning my interpretation of Severus Snape and the entire story.

Although I can appreciate a Severus who is a sexy-super-duper-sex-God-ultimate-spy-all-powerful -horribly-traumatised wizard, I believe he does not need all those added extenuating circumstances to be appreciated. Come on, he is faithful, clever, determined, and righteous. In my opinion, he is a character who made wrong choices for semi-right reasons, and right choices for semi-wrong reasons. His moods, his sourness, and his appearance can evolve, and are not such a deterrent, given the right context…

My gratitude goes to all my inspirations and **Zarathustra46**, my Beta.

R/R ! Enjoy ! R/R


	2. How Can You Mend A Broken Man

**Chapter 2: How Can You Mend A Broken Man? (Al Green)**

_After the battle…_

In a corridor, not very far from a few dead bodies that had not been disposed of, Narcissa was struggling to calm the rhythm of her heartbeat. Her fingers were clutching almost painfully her husband and son's arms. She reveled in the assuaging feeling of their cool foreheads against hers. Potter had just defeated the Dark Lord, thus liberating her family from that tyrant. But as she was beginning to regain her composure, it felt as though some sizzling liquid was creeping up her spine only to end up causing a freezing sensation in her right hand. She deduced from the peculiar pressure and the fact that her son was safe that, contrary to what she had heard, Severus was still alive, though barely so. Indeed, an Unbreakable Vow was not purely a one way promise. How could one really expect someone to risk her or his life, without any compensation? When Severus had vowed to go out of his way to protect her son, she implicitly —in her flesh— vowed to protect Severus to the best of her abilities, until the threat was removed. The threat in question had been effectively removed. For whatever reason, the Dark Lord having attacked Severus, or him still being alive, the link still remained. Even though she could ignore the numbness in her hand until he succumbed, she felt compelled to assist him. She owed him for having humored her and effectively preserving Draco's life. Moreover, despite his unfortunate upbringing and all politics aside, he was a family friend. She was no ingrate nor was she inclined to ignore a debt of honor or a life debt. She repressed her current jubilation in order to explore her options, or rather his options. Time was of the essence that at least was a certainty. The Dark Lord said he had killed (well, mortally wounded) him three hours ago. Settling on a course of action, she let go of her family and firmly called out, "Mysty".

Instantly and without a sound, the elf that had fathered Dobby appeared in front of her. If Harry had seen him, he would have thought him the most unfathomable elf he had ever met, and that was saying something. Although he looked like an older version of Dobby, his ancient eyes and the white cloth he wore as a toga gave him an air of dignified secrecy.

If Draco or Lucius were surprised, they did not show it and waited for her to be finished. She pursed her lips at the sight of the new arrival. He bowed respectfully in front of each of them. He had known Lucius and Draco for all of their lives and took pride in preparing the future for the next generation of Malfoys. Wasting no time, Narcissa gave him his order. "You will go back to the Manor and retrieve the object under the camellia tree in the greenhouse. Bring it back to me. Now."

With another deep bow, he was gone. She turned to the two men. "We need to make ourselves useful. Draco, I want you to go see Madam Pomfrey and offer help to her with the wounded. Avoid touching them as much as possible. Lucius, you know what to do." Lucius nodded and left to join the Ministry officials after giving them both a significant look. Draco started to move gingerly between the bodies towards the Infirmary. But his mother stopped him.

"Draco, who do you think would be more willing to offer himself or herself up to save the life of Severus Snape?" His mother's tone clearly indicated she would be suffering neither questions nor delay. _After all that had happened, is she requiring me to deliver a human sacrifice? Can Snape really be saved?_ After careful consideration, and despite his doubts, Draco supplied "I think that people from the Order of the Phoenix believing in his innocence might do it, assuming they don't believe their sacrifice to be lethal." His mother apparently not being inclined to reassure him on that account, he went on. "Potter, McGonagall or Granger, I guess."

In deep thought, she absently brushed a nonexistent stain on her left sleeve. Mysty's popping in coincided with her making a decision.

She took a small dark blue satin pouch from the pillow the elf presented to her. She then ordered him to keep an eye on Draco while he was in the Infirmary and to be ready to assist Lucius in case of an emergency. Before carrying on with his own mission, Draco hesitantly asked his mother if the device would kill them. "I do not think so" was her only words of comfort as she left him and made her way to the Great Hall in search of yet one more body to add to the pile of sacrificed magical beings.

Leaning against the faintly vibrating stones of the Great Hall, Hermione Granger was on her own, reflecting on everything that had happened that night. After so much pain, so much blood, and so many deaths, victory left a bitter taste in her mouth… Obviously, she was glad Voldemort was gone forever. How could she not be? But at the moment, as her relief at her people's survival was settling in, all she could see was the randomness and the unfairness of the wasted lives. Some of those deaths could have been avoided, she was sure of it. And that made her furious at Voldemort, at the Ministry, at all of the wizarding world, and most of all at herself. She knew that part of her anger was fuelled by her fear of drowning in her own sadness. On an unconscious level, she also knew it was not only blood, nor tears, nor even souls that were flowing through the cracks in the old walls, floors and ceilings. Voldemort had torn the fabric of magic itself through his wicked ways. Magic was natural and took many forms. It seemed human feelings and consciousness had a way to make it tangible in an obvious way. Voldemort was void of those feelings, and had endeavored to conquer the world. Consequently, as they were supposed to celebrate, her magic was echoing with that disharmony. Unwittingly she was having visions of Magic bleeding: flakes of light in pearly shinning tides leaking from every interstice of the Hall: from bodies back to the earth, back to the air, back to the water…

She forgot all that when a voice resonated in the safe although increasingly unstable haven of her mind.

"Miss Granger, I would like to have a word with you. It's of the utmost importance."

The fresh reality of the war came rushing back to her. Standing upright, she put her wand out ready to hex Narcissa Malfoy. Actually, she still had the wand of that woman's wretched sister. Her gaze lingered momentarily on the familiar piece of wood but did not mention it. The woman seemed so cold looking down on her that, even then, she could feel pity for Draco, growing up in such a loveless household. _Well, that isn't exactly true_, she pointed out to herself, _they protect each other, and care about their own kind_. _And someone who has violated her parents' minds, even with the best of intentions, should not throw stones_, she continued bitterly. _Who knows if anything from my own household is salvageable? _

"Sorry, what did you say?" she asked, trying to blink her weariness away, to Draco's mother who had gone on talking during her musings.

"As I said, something crucial to your cause needs your immediate attention. Would you consent to go somewhere more suitable for me to give you the particulars?"

"I can't see why not," she flippantly responded. Ron and Harry were probably still with the Aurors. "Which setting did you have in mind?"

People were still coming and going retrieving the bodies, and transporting the wounded. An Auror was guarding the entrance. Argus Filch could be seen mournfully examining the damages done to the Castle, Mrs Norris never leaving his side.

"Outside would be preferable."

Hermione agreed but gave her conditions. "But it occurs to me that you being who you are, having done what you've done, and believing what you believe in, you would never want to be near me, least of all when your family is in such a delicate situation."

At that, a fleeting shadow appeared in her gaze, but Hermione was not in a state to decipher further a Malfoy's thought process and carried on. "I don't believe in the farfetched notion that you would want to help our "cause", whatever that means, so you may understand why I would be reluctant to follow you. Contrary to what you may have heard, I am not gullible. So, these are my conditions. You will give me your wand, walk in front of me until we find the right spot, and make no sudden movement at any time. Do we understand each other?"

The young woman would not so easily be manipulated, Narcissa mused. Still, she was curious, eager to distract herself from morbid thoughts, and willing to a fault to do the right thing. That much was clear from the way she held herself and defied her. While silently handing her wand over, she did not have to fake a subtle hesitation. And it was probably for the best. Indeed, even though showing weakness would certainly help, she sensed Miss Granger would somehow be more trusting if she saw more layers in her behaviour. Narcissa was aware it was a complicated dance. She had to adapt her body language, her words, and even her breathing to serve whatever message she needed to pass across, and to literally "impress" on the other party her own design. It helped that she was about to tell the truth, mostly. She usually relished in achieving a graceful balance between her will and the other's resistance. But then, time was running out.

In an argument, Hermione could deduct some of the paths chosen or eliminated by her opponent as well as detect general changes in their moods. Winning verbal sparring was a gratification she usually appreciated. But she did not care for the song and dance. To her, it was a mean to an end. Furthermore, she always felt uneasy with the amount of manipulation and versatility required. _Was it not disrespectful to merely view a person as a combination of strings to pull? _

Still, they did not know each other well enough to make the potential victor appear clearly.

Narcissa turned around and swiftly walked towards their destination. Granger's cautiousness was commendable, but she still displayed a surprising capacity to trust people despite of the war. She should have insisted on warning her friends of what she was doing or even bring someone with her, and check for a second wand. Someone with more insights into Hermione's psyche than Narcissa, or even herself, could have guessed that a small part of her wished to disappear, because of a sort of survivor guilt. Nevertheless, when they passed the Auror, Narcissa heard her say, "If I am not back in fifteen minutes, would you please warn Harry and Ron that I have left with Mrs Malfoy?" The Auror nodded in agreement, although in her habit of relying on her friends more than the Ministry, she was being a little rude.

Three minutes later, Hermione was talking with Narcissa Malfoy for the first time in her life. The daylight made her remember how tired she was as well as hungry. Narcissa herself cleverly showed another sign of weakness (or humanity as one might put it) by attempting to relieve her tension by pinching the bridge of her perfect nose. That being done, she endeavoured to pay her debt to Severus.

"I assume you know that Severus Snape was on your side. I will not pretend my situation is similar to his but I want to save him. I have a device which would allow someone to accomplish such a feat. I can't use it myself because my desire to save him cannot overcome my desire to protect my family. A purer intent is necessary to allow the device to work. Conventional magic won't save him, and it seems you are one of the few capable of putting justice before above all."

Hermione exploded, her voice having lost nothing of its invigorating shrill quality. "Is that a feeble attempt to rid the world of one more Mudblood? What makes you think I would be willing to trust you and put myself at risk? Do you think I have some kind of heroine complex? And you should get your facts straight. I was in the Shrieking Shack and I saw him die. You are wasting both your breath and my time." She was about to throw her wand back at her and threaten her with a nasty hex if she did not depart immediately when she heard the most surprising thing of all.

"I beg of you to just listen to me. This is not about my biases or yours. I know for a fact that Severus is alive because of an Unbreakable Vow he made to me." From the flicker of understanding she saw in the young woman's eyes she did not have to dwell in the intricacies of the spell, so much the better. "But he will not survive much longer, I feel it. I am handing you the device and instructions." Matching the action to her words, she carefully deposited the little pouch on the grass. "I don't know who else to turn to. You are his last hope. He deserves to live as much as anyone else. And now you know that you can do something about it. You have the opportunity to save one person before the day is over. Are you telling me you are going to let him die? If you are worried about this being a trap, I am willing to make an Unbreakable Vow that the ritual does not require your death." That was certainly a gamble on her part, but not the worst of the past hours.

The young woman was staggered. She silently pondered her possible choices. How could he be alive? If he truly were alive, were there other options? She realized she had little choice, not when he could die as she was trying to make up her mind. Mrs Malfoy had made sure of it. Although she very much valued her life and understood the dangers of trusting a Malfoy, she had to follow her own moral code to maintain some semblance of constancy and harmony in her life. In the past, she had only hurt those who in one way or another threatened her loved ones and innocent defenceless people. The battle was over and they had won. She simply could not let a person die if she could help it, let alone an innocent one, even though he had done many despicable things. She felt compelled to do the right thing, trapped and wanted to hate all the Malfoys and the Slytherins of the world for ripping her apart again and again by messing with her world. But hating on the usual scapegoats did not change her current situation. She mentally reprimanded herself for taking the easy road. Being a reasonable adult was certainly more of a burden than she had anticipated. But there really was no way around it. She could not unlearn what had been revealed to her.

She glared accusatorially at the older woman whose face remained impassive. "I'll do it. But there will be no Unbreakable Vow between us because the magic bond could affect my judgement by making me feel compelled to put myself in danger in return for your promise. I'll have to trust you were willing to die to reassure me of your good intentions." Narcissa relaxed noticeably before tensing as she went on. "I can't help but wonder if my death may be an unfortunate side-effect of the ritual."

Narcissa's only answer was "It might but death is not the point of the spell, rather life is."

"That does not reassure me at all. If something bad does happen to me, be certain that I or Harry and Ron will come after you." Mrs Malfoy nodded in understanding. After a few Dark magic detecting spells, Hermione traded the pouch for Narcissa's wand on the grass.

"I hope you'll give me back the pouch in person." She grabbed her wand gracefully, and looked less pale as she went back to the castle without another glance at her. Catching the worried eyes of the Auror, Hermione smiled wearily and waved dismissively.

Not wanting to distress the Weasleys and Harry any further, she wrote a note and Transfigured it into a bird-shaped messenger which flew in search for Luna.

"Dear Luna,

Professor Snape is alive. I am going to the Shrieking Shack. Please, tell Harry and Ron.

Love,

Hermione"

Swiping her sweaty palms on her pants, she performed the Disillusionment Charm on herself and ran towards the Whomping Willow. In her hurry to reach the Shrieking Shack she acquired several cuts and scratches. But it did not matter because she could only think of the possibility of saving a life.

No matter how she looked at him, he seemed dead, dried up and empty. It was sickening. She could hardly believe someone had inhabited that shell. Because of what Narcissa had said, she thought she could sense a very dim magical throb around him. But it was probably wishful thinking, unless he was becoming an Inferius courtesy of the Death Eaters. The moment of his death replayed in her mind, his desire to see Harry's eyes taking a new meaning with the knowledge of his love for his mother. She hastily made herself visible again and began her task, for fear of changing her mind. Gingerly opening the delicate pouch on the palm of her hand, she thought its contents rather anticlimactic: a parchment scroll, a minuscule box full of amber-coloured powder, and a long peculiar silver chain. Reading the parchment, she learned that she had to link both of them with the chain, which would end up in seven parts (that was a bad omen if she knew one), at seven points: the top of the head, the forehead, the throat, the breast, the solar plexus, the abdomen and the… _Oh no…_ _Well, hopefully I will just have to drop the chain on that area and magic will do the rest._ Then, she would have to blow the powder on him and sprinkle it on her, focusing on where they would be linked. In order for the spell to be effective, she had to trace several runes and chanting their names over the seven areas. The only information she could gather about the effect of the spell on them was those ambiguous words:

"An exchange in essence

A gift of time

A necessary loss

Fair price for a revival"

Kneeling beside him, she alternated with firstly putting one end of the chain on herself and secondly on him. Concentrating on her task, she felt morbid, silly and strangely soothed. She likened it to performing some kind of a religious ritual. Every time their bodies were connected, the ends of the chain appeared to dissolve in their flesh, through their clothes, and another chain seem to peel off the other. Having dropped the end of the last chain on the area of his crotch, she hoped she was in no way being disrespectful to his memory. The last rune she traced in the air appeared in bright gold, only to be absorbed by the dark form below.

But nothing else happened. It was not working and she felt such a fool, even though nothing bad had happened to her. She berated herself. _How could you be disappointed? You did not expect a Malfoy scheme to succeed now, did you?_ She was shaking from painfully dry sobs as she spared a thought for that bitter and misunderstood man and the other chance she wished she could have given him. Slowly, her blood began to boil with anger in a way that no longer felt metaphorical. From head to toe, her body was sizzling. Without thinking, she gathered the body of a broken Severus Snape in her arms, as though she could warm him up. Volutes of smoke erupted from where they touched and were linked to each other. Bit by bit, that thick smoke enveloped them as though they were consumed by an invisible fire.

As she felt something circulating through the chains, her last conscious thought was of a hunger for life. If she made it out of this mess alive, she would truly enjoy life. She would grab it and devour it with a fiery passion.

Even before opening his eyes, Severus knew something was wrong. Call it a Sixth sense honed by years of spying, but something told him it was not his pure Lily by his side. If it were part of his coma, the smell of that room and the blood felt dreadfully real. Evidently, he had fatally miscalculated during his last encounter with the Dark Lord. _Killed with a venom I had an antidote for right there in my office, now that is humiliating_. Obviously, there was no use beating himself up anymore, but old habits die hard especially with him. But the antidote could only be administered after having been bitten. And the Draught had stabilized the body in its critical state for all the good it had done him. For all intents and purposes, he was dead. _So why am I able to feel something sticky against my skin? _Vivid sensations from the attack were forcing themselves upon him, until he could not take it anymore and opened his eyes. _Snake! Where is the snake?_ Sitting up, he frantically looked around him. In doing so, he noticed a few things. Colours seemed altered. His own inert body was lying by his current body's knees. He had female attributes as well as long and messy brown hair. On the floor, he could see two wands, his own and Bellatrix's, parchment, and an empty box. Wasting no time, he read the parchment and uncomfortably checked his own pulse. It was almost unperceivable, but it was still there. He was still there. He was alive. Having embraced death and said goodbye to the only thing that had mattered to him on this earth, it was a disappointment. The scene of his demise looked harsh and mediocre_… This must be some kind of afterlife torment._ He had expected it. Unsurprisingly, it was awfully similar to his lifetime torment.

His uneasiness increased as he was affected by his current body's exhaustion. She had been fighting with the rest of them. And he was responsible for both of their lives at that point. And as much as he wanted to leave all that pain behind, he refused to cause one more innocent death. He had to act quickly before he lost consciousness. He grabbed his wand.

"_Accio_ _venom antidote!_" He concentrated on the one he needed. "_Accio Blood-Replenishing Potion_!" The sound of that voice definitely erased any doubt he could have had about the person who had tried to save him. _It is always a Gryffindor, always…_ The potions arrived from the Head's office. In the meantime, he put the other wand and the other important items in one of his body's pockets. After cleaning his neck and Transfiguring his Death Eater mask into a compress, he made sure to apply enough pressure on the wound. He administered the potions one after the other, carefully, drop after drop. He looked so broken, so fragile, and pathetic. It was disconcerting. He submitted to the compassion he felt for himself. He lowered his tiny frame, nestled his head on the crook of his body's unscathed shoulder, lied on his side, and took comfort in the feeble thumping echoing in his cage of bones. As the tension in his limbs was fading, the body he was occupying felt heavier. He wished the weight would draw his soul to its rightful place, make him whole and finally in control of his life. In the back of his mind, there was the tiny hope that that macabre and one-sided embrace might help his own body to heal.


	3. I Wish I Knew How It'd Feel To Be Free

**Chapter 3: I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel To Be Free (Nina Simone)**

Luna marvelled at the graceful paper owl and its message. She pondered the reasons why Hermione would send it to her instead of Harry or Ron. Maybe she did not want to worry them, or she wanted to avoid having them interrupting whatever she was doing to help the Headmaster. Maybe it was a notice in case she did not reappear. Anyway, she took her time looking for the boys.

An hour later, the three of them could be seen hastening towards the Shrieking Shack. Ron was red with anger, Harry, pale with worry, and both were breathing heavily. Luna appeared unfazed. In fact, she was concentrating on regulating her breathing. They were all completely worn-out but she arrived first to the unusual scene. Hermione and the Headmaster seemed asleep in each other's embrace. She saw sparks. He looked healthier than he had in a long time. Still, his cheeks were as hollowed, and his cheekbones as prominent. If Luna had to give a title to the moment, she would call it "Pietà of a Valkyrie". Hermione had been healing him. Rather, they had been healing each other. Luna was picking up a curious vibe between them, especially where they were touching. There was definitely something different about them. Her contemplation was disturbed by the gasps of her companions who nearly made her topple over the couple in their hurry. A mixture of emotions passed on Ron's face: anger, shock, disgust, worry and relief. By the time she had turned to Harry, his own expression was one of concern and what seemed to be guilt. Silently, Ron checked Hermione's breathing and pulse. After a slight hesitation, Harry's trembling hand was getting a hold the wrist of the man who had loved his mother for so long. It was all so disconcerting.

They exhaled "He is alive," "She is breathing."

Then, there was an increasingly awkward silence as they reflected on what to do.

Luna spoke up, "I think we should take them to Madam Pomfrey and keep them close together because a spell is still at work. Separating them could prove dangerous."

They nodded reluctantly. Harry Transfigured a piece of wood into a stretcher and Ron Levitated their bodies onto it and maintained it in the air. By the time they were done, Luna had Transfigured something into a soft blanket, to keep them warm and safe from prying eyes without impairing their breathing. She then sent her Patronus to the infirmary. The boys endeavoured to carefully make the stretcher float toward the outdoors. Luna led the way, making sure no one would harm any of them. Ignoring the questioning looks they got from the people they came across, they hurriedly walked up the first flight of stairs when they were stopped by a note from the matron.

"The Infirmary is inadequate. Wait for me in the Headmaster's quarters. Ask for entry from his office. Password: Albus Dumbledore."

It did make sense, although they felt uneasy about invading Severus Snape's privacy and introducing Hermione to his quarters. Without further ado, they made their way towards the Head's office. Upon their arrival, Harry put the stretcher down and, with a determined tightening of his jaw, put the memories from the Pensieve back in the bottle.

"I'll need it for the Wizengamot. He deserves justice." Ron and Luna could only guess the contents of the memories. The only certainty was that it had something to do with Harry's mother.

Luna said "We wish to be granted access to the Headmaster's quarters. He needs a safe place to rest."

The ceiling shimmered and white ropes which ended in small loops slid down from the part of the ceiling that suddenly looked like the surface of an ocean observed from beneath on a sunny day. Luna imagined beautiful tropical fish swimming over their heads. As she absentmindedly grabbed a rope with one hand while putting a foot in the loop, she thought about a majestic whale, dolphins and other sea creatures swimming around her. Ropes attached themselves to the ends of the stretcher. Too spent to muster any surprise, Harry and Ron followed her lead, minus the vivid vision of sea life. They arrived to a huge circular room enclosed in a magical glass dome, similar to one of a sumptuous yet tasteful greenhouse. The glass panels were delimited by delicate looking branches, rising to the top. They were not aware of it, but their colour changed with the seasons and at the moment had settled on vine green. It was like being in some kind of a water globe. On its base were curved walls with iron circled portholes similar those of a submarine. They could display most of Hogwarts' grounds provided that someone was in danger and that no one's privacy was being invaded. The room had a welcoming and whimsical atmosphere.

On the walls, against the soft blue fabric wallpaper, were shelves made of cream-coloured wood. They were decorated with stylized Celtic knots, intertwining and rising up. Leaves-carved torches covered with multi-coloured glass orbs were fixed between the shelves. Those were full of an eclectic collection of objects from the Muggle and the wizarding worlds and possibly other ones. On one side was a selection of books: recipes, art books, travel guides, languages and so on. In that reading area, there also was a black and silver magical trunk that did not go with the décor. That was the only thing likely to belong to Severus Snape rather than Dumbledore. Was he reluctant to impose his presence in the quarters of the man he had killed?

Every part of the room was dedicated to an activity without partition walls. A white grand piano covered with other instruments constituted the music area. There also was a marble bathroom in the same blue as the wallpaper mixed with glittery purple adorned with shell-shaped cream coloured bathtub and appliances. A meditation or game-playing area with velvet cushions could be found near an imposing round bed covered with silk cream-coloured sheets, and a cosy purple comforter. Drapes of the same colour with golden embroideries of stars and moons stood above the headboard, ready to create a cocoon of solace for the sleeper, or at least protection from changes in temperature and lighting. They approached the bed which still was bearing the indentation of the Headmaster from the previous day.

Instinctively, Ron pulled on the sheets and comforter to straighten them before helping Harry to lower the two sleepers on their backs onto the bed. They looked so peaceful as Luna's blanket was pulled down from over them. Ron sat beside Hermione and pushed her hair away from her face, greedily watching her breathe. Harry stood by the end of the bed, like a sentinel mindful of his precious friends and his old enemy. Luna was watching something in the closest porthole. She informed them, "Madam Pomfrey is just below the room."

And sure enough, she appeared, let go of her rope and quickly reached her patients. "What happened to them?"

While listening to their answers and asking more questions, she performed diagnostic spells on them all and put her hands over each one of the sleeping figures' heart and hummed in very low tone. As they lay on their backs, side by side, one of his wrists was stuck to hers. The intimacy of that contact was masked by his robe, although it is unclear who it would have bothered at that point. Poppy stopped her examination, changed the compress and told them they were both in excellent shape.

"As far as I can tell, Miss Granger has found an antidote to the venom and administered it. Afterwards, she probably succumbed to sheer exhaustion. I can hardly explain their vital closeness, but I presume it has something to do with the power of compassion and care which is not surprising, coming from your friend. They ought to remain close at least until one of them wakes up and tell us more. The Charm I am performing will keep them hydrated, and will ensure I am warned if their vitals get critical. It is not necessary for any of you to stay awake. You all need to rest. I assume I can trust you to take care of them when you wake up without fear of discrimination or divulging of private information. Are we clear?"

She was very imposing despite the dark circles under her eyes. With renewed respect, they acquiesced to the woman who had been carrying so many lives on her shoulders.  
After she left, they took off their patients' shoes and asked the drapes to glide around the bed. The upper part of the drapes twisted itself until the sleeping area resembled a suspended nest.

The rest of the group went to sleep on the cushions under the blanket made wider by Luna. When Ron asked how they could dim the light coming from outside, blinds appeared on the glass panels. They fell asleep with images of what had happened the previous day flashing in their minds. They were grateful for the oblivion of sleep, and wished their nightmare was over. Things could only get better after Voldemort's death, couldn't they? Luna's last thought before flying to the land of dreams was of Dumbledore, sprawled on those pillows, eating sweets and drinking a cup of traditionally made Japanese tea with a dear friend of his. Her pleased sigh made the victory a little more real for the boys as they dozed off.

When Severus woke up, it was dark. But the smell and feel of the particular sheets and water mattress told him he was in bed in Albus' quarters. _Those blasted drapes are evidently concealing the real time of day._ Truthfully, he had found them confining and annoying, but with the year he'd had they had become the only thing that helped him to rest a bit. Somehow, it felt like being protected by Albus, without compensation required. There was a warm hand against his own and his body temperature was colder than usual. Bracing himself for the truth, he took a moment to accept the fact that he was in Hermione Granger's body and vice versa. There was no denying it as bits of her memories, emotions and thoughts were assaulting his mind. _Why? Why me? Why can't I catch a break for once? When will the sheer torture that is my existence ever cease?_ That new source of information was as complicated to explore as the recollections of a dream. Wasting no time, he concentrated on how and where she found the Dark ritual. A few memory sequences gave him the gist of it, but every time he tried to get a hold of her motives and emotions, something started to trouble his train of thought and he felt slightly nauseous. _Well, that takes care of my worries about protecting the last bastion of my privacy. I hope she gets so sick from nosiness she is expulsed from my body and I get my life back. Come to think of it, do I want my body back? On one hand, I'll probably be sentenced to Azkaban, or murdered, again. On the other hand, she'll be celebrated as a heroine and has her life in front of her. But if I stay in her body, I might have to be friendly to Potter. Ugh, I really wanted never to see him again. I cringe at the prospect of hearing him blab about MY memories. I'll make him keep his mouth shut._

He decided that escaping in her body should be his last resort because although he had many bouts of self-loathing, he refused to let someone else have the power to damage his honour, and turn him into a fool. He imagined Granger hugging and kissing her buddies in his body and he almost snapped. That would not do. He had to find Narcissa. But beforehand, he searched for his vessel's recollections of the Dark Lord's fall. He was not ready for the myriads of emotions that event provoked in him —relief, guilt, anger, triumph, sadness, emptiness and much more— notwithstanding that those of Granger forced themselves on his mind. He was also unprepared for the sense of purposelessness that filled him as he contemplated what he was to do with the life he had not expected to have.

He chose not to dwell on the fact that his biggest secret bad been revealed to the Dark Lord by Potter. His response was insulting. He had just dismissed the matter. He never understood or cared enough to be affected by this betrayal. Severus wished he could kill him more. Potter had managed to come out his required task of assassination as innocent as possible. _It figures… At least, it has been with a spell I taught him. But because of him, people know about my resilient infatuation. Oh, it's unbearable. They will see me as a pathetic loser, and an obsessive creep. _It seemed Granger had mainly been relieved to understand where his loyalty lay but she might pity him after seeing some of his memories. But he had not been lusting after a dead woman! It was more than physical love to him. She was his salvation. She was his link to all that was pure, beautiful, and worthy in this world. But he was definitely unwilling to clarify that distinction to others, least of all Potter. He concentrated on what to do with the appalling notion that a young woman was going to wake up in his body. He was not fond of it but he was used to it being a defining point in his life. At least, he knew how to use it well, to put off bothersome creatures for instance.

Something told him she would wake up when their physical connexion was broken. Making sure not to separate their hands, he searched his pocket to find his wand. The first wand he grabbed was Bellatrix's. It responded to him better than to her. And he could still use his own. Severus checked if their health was satisfactory. Finding nothing distressing apart from their predicament, he tapped the drapes with his wand to see the rest of the room without being seen and talk privately with his newly found partner in bed. _How disgusting…_ Rays of sunlight were escaping from the sides of the blinds. Severus noticed a tangle of arms and legs on the cushions. A blanket had been discarded during their sleep. The youngest male Weasley was lying behind Potter who was cradling his friend's arm close to his chest. Miss Lovegood was on her back, limbs spread about in a carefree way, as could attest her legs thrown over the boys'. Her right hand rested next to their joined hands. They were the picture of carefree youth. _What a sickening display of affection... How can they stay so defenceless in spite the war?_ That much he was curious to know. Shaking his head, he stopped delaying the inevitable and turned to his next task.

With a long-suffering sigh, he moved closer to his original body and detached the feminine hand that was now his from his real wrist. Then, he directed it towards his lips. They never had looked so attractive to him than that day. _Wait, what was that? That is a weird thought to have about one's own body. I mean that they seem less despondent. Yes, that's it._ They were warm and familiar. And he could feel his heartbeat against his soft palm. That caused a complicated pang of longing somewhere inside of him. To the casual observer, Hermione would appear to be making an overture at her helpless old Potions teacher, and with obvious pleasure. In reality, Severus was preparing to "woman-handle" his ex-student in case she did not react well to the news. His hand motion accomplished, she began to awaken and open his eyes, well her eyes._ Oh, this is going to be a real nightmare…_

Hermione was overwhelmed by her memories of the previous day and disturbing memories of many dreams she did not remember making. They all had one thing in common: they seemed to belong to someone else. _Merlin on a cracker! What happened? _She instinctively tried to sit up to have a better view of her surroundings. But a firm hand on her mouth continuing into an elbow across her chest kept her lying down. Her body felt strange. She was missing something.

"Do not be afraid," a voice said in her ear. Her voice told her not to be afraid but she had not opened her mouth because a hand was propped against it. That made no sense. Plus, she would not tell herself to not be afraid in a situation that definitely called for such a reaction. Thus, she felt extremely agitated.

"As I said, you have nothing to fear from me. I… am Severus Snape. I don't know what you remember of yesterday but you apparently used a device given to you by Narcissa Malfoy in a foolish attempt to save my life. I can't fathom what you hoped to accomplish from that apart from joining Potter in the Hall of Fame for your self-righteous sacrifice and stupidity. But what you got is this. We are trapped in each other's body indefinitely. I give you credit for my body and my mind still functioning, but you should not feel proud of what you've done because you put us both in jeopardy. And don't think I owe you anything because I saved your life more than once. I don't know if we will be able to disclose the situation to other parties so we have to discuss our conduct in the alternative. I'll remove my hand if you show me you're ready to face the situation like an adult."

Her anger at the disparaging comments, the lack of appreciation, and the whole situation, found perfect firewood in her new body. That is to say, it took her over more powerfully than ever, so much that she felt she would explode from it. It was as though balls of flames were blasting though her. She was so not prepared for that. She reasoned with herself. _He does not have the upper hand in this. I may have taken a risk but I did what was right according to all the information I had. And we are alive. Maybe, he is as confused as I am._

Thinking about the recollections she kept having, she understood they were parts of his psyche remaining in his body and tried to keep them at the same mental level as her own memory to have a better understanding of his behaviour. He had hesitated before saying his full name. That was significant. He probably had mixed-feelings about being alive. He did not want to owe her for his life. He was disturbed by the whole thing and furious at her. Perhaps he was also mad at other people, the world, and himself? Those were only the layers of meaning she could grab onto. But the deeper the layer she tried to get a hold of, the more nauseous she felt. Obliged to stop her speculations, she began to feel a little sorry for herself. She did not want to have to deal with his cruel remarks, or his body. She wanted to go to her friends and more friendly teachers, to find her parents, to celebrate the end of the war and to finally begin her adult life. The war aside, she had so many doubts about her future.

Instead of working on that issue, she was lying in bed with Severus Snape inside of her body. At that, her mind formed a very different mental image. _Of all the things to think at a moment like this… _But she was too used to carefully envisage all the ramifications of a situation that she could not help herself.

Meanwhile, he had to quell the impulse to apologise to her for hurting her feelings. Although he was used to self-deprecating humour and emotional pain on so many levels, he usually did not have to witness the effect of his success on his own face. But she had to understand he did not want to be in her company, or anyone else's for that matter. He just wanted to be left alone and free, if he were truly given a second or third chance at life. However, he knew something humiliating was coming his way and had the nagging hunch that the blow would be delivered by her. _Ha, ha, Snivellus… You actually thought you had a shot at happiness? You're so pathetic you don't even know your limitations! The joke's on you because you're really dead and your afterlife will be spent witnessing someone with your appearance actually enjoying herself, in a way that you never did, proving once again it's you that is rotten to the core. _That wasn't even a seven on the Snape nastiness scale, but he was starting to tear up.

Hermione had yet to come to grip with the idea of inhabiting the sour man's body. She would be mortified if her friends knew, which they would if the process was not reversed soon. In Harry's body, she had not had the time to dwell on what it meant to have a male body. Her current position was so unreal, she submitted without a second thought to the puerile impulse of licking the palm against her lips, either to disgust him or to sample the taste and know if she could recognise it as her own. And since she had been forced to breathe through the nose —which was more sensitive— she had to admit the familiar olfactory messages were coming from a body she was not in. Those sensations were troubling for all the obvious reasons, but most of all because the familiarity was reassuring but it was reaching her in very unnatural way. She wanted to relieve her stress through tears but that body was sort of blocking her feelings in the throat.

When she turned towards her real face, as in looking in a mirror, she could see a few tears falling from her eyes. He had withdrawn his hand as soon as her tongue had touched it, as if bitten by a snake, again. The intimacy had bothered him but more than that he had had the compulsion to grab the tongue and hold it close. _Mine_, he wanted to shout before remembering how absurd and sick that would have made him appear. She could see her face bearing a look of comical disbelief. It did bring her a little comfort. She felt ready to discuss their problem calmly, after he stopped crying. Without hesitation, she put her left hand on the top of her head, doing circular motions with her fingers in her bushy hair. He noticeably tensed but allowed her to continue her soothing ministrations. If anyone asked, he would just say he thought being touched by her might help her body calm down. As soon as his quiet sobs stopped, he pushed her hand away. She propped herself against a pillow and she stretched her unusually long legs. While gently checking on her neck, she started to speak.

"I could no more convince you of my good intentions than of the fact that both of us being alive should be celebrated. I can't pretend to understand how you feel and I didn't expect you to fawn over me with gratitude." At that he snorted, and quite ungracefully, she thought. She went on. "You are right to be mad at me because you didn't consent to my trying to save your life. But know I had no choice. It was the decent thing to do, and I have not planned this. If we have to agree to disagree, fine. And with a little bit of luck and work, we may never have to see each other again." She was posturing and trying to avoid giving him more grounds to hurt her. It was easier to hide her emotions in his body. But reconciling the insights she was given by his body and his behaviour were proving difficult. "In the meantime, things are going to get more confusing. And since we are in each other's body, I believe we should at least privately be on a first name basis. I just can't address myself as Headmaster Snape." She gave him the time to object.

He looked as if he were granting a huge favour and said, "As much as it pains me to tolerate it, it will probably make dealing with this emotional body easier. Your friends are going to wake up soon, so let us be efficient. If we are not able to discuss the body swap with other people, I'm sure you can think of a few reasons why discretion is paramount." He arched his eyebrows for emphasis, but the effect was more funny than intimidating until he added, "We are going to use each other's body on a regular basis, after all. That is until we can…end the spell." Both of them thought of what that could entail. "You will be easy to impersonate. On the other hand, you had better make it convincing. Be aware that it'll be dangerous with some of the Dark Lord's partisans still at large, even if most of them are likely to keep a low profile."

"So, we agree to do our utmost to keep our reputations and relationships in the same state they were…ahem… provided to us?"

"Right."

"Shall we, I don't know, shake on it perhaps?"

He really wanted to answer something snarky but he needed her cooperation to make it work. He extended his right hand without a word. When they touched, they both felt a tingle. She let out a breath, and he frowned reflexively, each of them relieved to be closer to their flesh. She was hit by a sudden thought. "S-Severus, are you sure you want me to act like you did before?"

"What are you trying to say?" He seemed affable, but the temperature noticeably dropped a few degrees just with his tone.

"Well, you nearly died and Voldemort is gone. And the justice system may exonerate you. You can do whatever you like and be whomever you want. Er… It was my understanding that your… treatment of others was largely dependent on your role in the war."

She flushed and was getting a little bit sweaty. The smell was both foreign and familiar. In a way, he was as much punishing himself as he was enjoying letting her stew in her own juices. "Yes?" His voice trailed on the "s".

"I don't want to be out of line… But maybe I could make you more likable. It would make your life easier and more enjoyable," she rapidly suggested.

He looked at her for what seemed an eternity, before revealing the most vicious expression she ever saw on her face. It was repulsive. "I see… So, you would have me distribute smiles and candies all around, and win people over with my new sparkling personality. The past will be forgiven. I will avoid ending my life as a sad and lonely man. Is that what you're telling me?" There was so much spite in his voice that it made her feel sick to her stomach. On the top of her own feelings, she had reminiscences of the feelings and memories related to the hurt he had caused, his self-hatred, and his misanthropy. And she was reminded of her own helplessness and shortcomings.

"I'm sorry I even suggested it. Still it could make sense if you sort of mellowed out a little on account of your injury, couldn't it? Because, as much as I want to help, there's only so much nastiness one can muster."

"You'd be surprised," he pointed out tiredly. "You would do well to remember that if you don't play my role convincingly enough, I may reveal to Mister Weasley that our affection for each other may not be what it was."

"Are you really blackmailing me? Really? I was not being malicious, but fine, be that way! I will be Dramatic Snape in all his glory!" If he had not been in her body, she would have tried to strike him.

"Dramatic? I am not dramatic!" he suffocated.

"Oh please! You are the most dramatic person I have ever met! Every day, you play the part of the snarky teacher or Headmaster. You hide your real feelings, until they explode in other people's faces. And even then you exploit every movement, every word, and every intonation for maximum effect." Getting on her knees, she put a penetrated look on her face, and said with an ardent voice: "I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses ... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper on death."* Inspired, she slowly raised a hand up to some invisible star she was attempting to snatch. Before she completely lost herself to the theatrics, she lowered her hand to his eye level, and concluded "You see what I mean? Dramatic." _And mean too, when he could be so much better than that_, she thought.

"You actually memorized that speech? Of course, you did." His tone was derisive, but he was a little flattered.

"Yes, I did. It was beautiful and inspiring up until you proved to be completely prejudiced and unfair. Then, it was just a sad symbol for a missed opportunity."

"Who do you think you are to be passing judgement on me? Everything you know, you learned in books. Your only use to your supposed friends is as a walking library and surrogate mother. And you insist on consorting with a boy you have nothing in common with. You pretend you know right from wrong, but you are a beacon of moral relativism. On top of that, you are clueless about your own future. You were so afraid of what to do with yourself after the end of the war that you readily risked your life for someone you hated. Well, spare me. I have no interest in being your new project."

We will never know what she would have retorted because Ron's snoring had stopped and he was loudly yawning.

Severus was all business at once. "Pretend to be asleep for as long as possible. I'll find Narcissa to end the spell. Use my memories to know how to interact with people if we have to fake being each other."

He tapped his wand against the drapes which appeared opaque again, and put their wands between them just in case.

As the trio was awakening, they lay back on the bed. Severus was sorting out his feelings about what had transpired, when Hermione whispered: "Be kind to them, especially Harry. And whatever you learn about them while in my body, you can't use against them when we are back to normal."

He showed no reaction until she begged "Please." He could not abide that, _not with my voice_, he told himself. Furthermore, he was acquiescing to a future in which he got what was rightfully his. A good luck charm of sorts…

As the drapes were rustling open, Hermione's worries were eased by an "Agreed."Resonating in her mind, the word helped her bracing herself for the travesty they might have to create.

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* Rowling, J.K. (1997) _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_. London: Bloomsburg Children's, p. 102 (ISBN 0747532745).

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	4. A Stranger on this Earth

**Chapter 4: A Stranger on this Earth (Della Reese)**

Severus pretended to be roused by the sudden brightness in the room. He languorously stretched, letting out a faint moan. _Was he acting cute? That couldn't possibly work, could it?_

Apparently, it could. He had immediately tried to tell them the truth, but an invisible force, _a confidentiality clause_, had frozen his vocal cords as well as parts of his body, including his hands. It lasted less than a few seconds, but the message was clear. The ritual protected its creators. _Perfect! Why can't things be simple for once?_ So much for redemption, he had to begin his new life with deceit. Mustering all the knowledge he had on her and her relationships with those people, he began his latest performance.

"Hello. I'm so glad to see you're fine." He extended his arms with a tentative smile, as if to embrace them all.

"You're taking the words out our mouths, Hermione." Relieved, they hugged their friend one after the other. The last one, Harry, reproachfully asked her, "How could you do it without telling us? We were so worried. What if something had happened to you?"

Severus hugged the boy or man who had infuriated him for so long. _I am actually holding Potter, to comfort him and not to hurt him_. To think he might have to kiss Weasley before the end of the day made him a little green, although imagining revealing that information to him cheered him up quite a bit.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry. But people needed you, and there was no time. He was dying and I was the only one who could do something, and cared to do it just because of what you said to V-Voldemort. Narcissa Malfoy proved to me that he was alive and had a way to get the antidote to him, but could not be bothered to give it to him herself. And before you say anything about being too trusting, give me some credit. I examined all possibilities. It was the right decision." Severus could almost believe it himself. "I guess you know what it feels like now." The memory of Granger believing Potter dead actually hurt Severus' feelings. "Look. He is alive. We are alive. It's a wonderful day and I don't want to fight." He pouted.

Harry was about to retort something but was stopped by the determined look on his friend's face. She was right, as always. There was a brand new world to live in as they were finally free of Voldemort's looming shadow. Moreover, he wanted to tell Ron and Hermione about what had happened in the forest. Already, he had decided he would keep silent about the details of Snape's revelations.

Ron turned toward the sleeping form. "Is he really healed?"

Luna was the one to answer. "He is getting healthier by the minute." She then proceeded to hum a happy little tune, while looking alternatively at Severus and Hermione. She appeared to have discovered something but was not ready to share just yet. They did not even try to ask, and Severus completely ignored her.

Ron asked "What do we do when he wakes up?"

"That's obvious. We tell him the truth and we thank him," declared Harry.

"I don't know, Harry. Even if he did help us, I just can't forget all the pain he's caused."

_That's what I said_, thought Severus. _See, even he agrees with me. Nothing really changes_.

"I'm not asking you to like him, Ron. Whatever I've learned about him, it doesn't mean I expect us to best mates. He had a responsibility in the death of my parents, after all. But I respect him now. Even if he stays as mean as he always was, I just can't forget his sacrifice. I believe he has the right to move on, like us all. That doesn't mean I won't wish to hurt him if he gets nasty again. We have to accept things will always be complex when he's involved. I've felt enough hate for a lifetime. No more. I'm glad I have a chance to make things right. Hermione, are you tearing up because you're proud I'm all grown-up?"

_Yes, you moron. _Harry was grinning. Severus sniffled and replied "It's about time."During the group laughter, Severus could only cringe at the sentimentality of it all.

Luna spoke to Harry, "I see you have something to tell them. I'll take my time looking for Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey."

Harry gratefully beamed at her and asked if she could see if Ginny was all right.

The boys sat on the bed in front of their friend, careful not to touch their old teacher. Harry told them everything that had happened. Upon hearing his quick explanation of his motives, Severus could see Potter was struggling to decide what he could say or not.

"Who cares about that anyway?" Weasley interjected. _I do, you impertinent prick_, Severus wanted to say but Hermione's face only glared silently at him. "I want to know what happened to Harry after that."

Passing a hand through his hair, in a way awfully reminiscent of his father, Potter looked guilty for a second, but gave them the full account that time. Upon hearing about his death, Severus felt a displeasing kinship with him, which he buried under mental comments on the young man's delusion. Truly, he was jealous —once again— of Potter for making such a cleansing encounter, wondering about the truth in that vision. _Is everyone allowed one of those? Did Granger take that from me? Ignorant pest…_ Almost too quick for his brain to register the image, and just before he got caught up in Potter's story again, he imagined his own afterlife waiting area. In a majestic forest with deep dark trunks in an equally dark forest, his back rested against the warm bark, his calves dangling in the water between the roots, and a translucent doe behind him, going further and further away. The atmosphere was not at all oppressive. It was tranquil and meaningful, and a little lonely. He rapidly pushed the vision in the back of his mind. How strange to be reminded that Longbottom, whom he had used as a tension reliever, was actually the one who had avenged him… _How much had Albus guessed of what would happen after his death?_

Weasley punctuated the story with various exclamations of wonder and surprise. His only coherent addition to the monologue was that Potter's moral fiber had once again paid off, considering Narcissa's decision. Severus said nothing and it seemed to surprise Weasley. He looked at him curiously. Severus smiled encouragingly at him. _Perhaps if he can work out the body swap by himself, I won't have to kiss him after all. _Maybe he could only channel some of his thoughts, because his confused expression changed into a soppy one. _Thank Merlin Potter is there or I might get kissed by Ronald Weasley on Albus' bed, next to Granger faking sleep in my body._ But Weasley only poked the mattress. "You know, I've been wondering about it for a while now but what in the world is going on with this bed?"

Relieved and smirking, Severus answered. "I think it was Dumbledore's. It's a Muggle mattress filled with water. I wonder how he has been made aware of its existence. It kind of grows on you."

"Really? Are you thinking about getting one? Hey, what do you think this disco ball on the shelf is all about?" Harry asked mischievously.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Harry."

Severus genuinely joined the others in laughter this time. It was particularly pleasant not to focus on his mixed feelings towards Albus. He reminded himself not to take everything so seriously, which was certainly a motto Albus lived by. No one was actively trying to kill him at the moment, and being in a young yet alien body felt amazing all things considered. _Let's try this optimism thing out._ _Narcissa will soon tell me all I need to know about the ritual and I'll be back in my body soon. In the meantime, I might as well try to make the best out of the situation._

Minerva and Poppy arrived in the room. Minerva was looking as stern as usual, but he could see how relieved she was to see him, or rather Granger safe and sound. He was glad and bitter that the two women were benevolently smiling and not trying to attack him.

"How are you feeling, dear?"

Poppy listened to his answer, checked both of their vitals, and declared them surprisingly fit to join the others in the Great Hall three hours later.

Minerva then assured him she was happy they were well, but demanded to know what had happened. So, he did what he was best at. He worked around the truth and what he had already revealed. Narcissa Malfoy had given Hermione the key to his salvation, his own potions. And she had fallen asleep while waiting for him to wake up. They bought his story. That was how he had survived for so long. He was not always in full control of his emotions, which he experienced many of —contrary to popular belief— but knew how to use how they appeared to his advantage. For example, he hated many things Potter represented. All he had to do was to weave the real feelings into phoney reasons. It was easier to create a lie with the things that were real. Still, making the whole tapestry hold and maintaining the full pattern required skills, most of all when it was under the scrutiny of the Dark Lord. _Wait... I don't have to show him any deference anymore._ The reality of the end of his servitude suddenly dawned on him. Therefore, he indulged himself with series of silent, puerile and cathartic name-calling. His savage joy oddly suited Hermione's features, and the others thought nothing of it.

But, looking troubled, Poppy frowned at Severus' body. "He should be awake by now."

Hermione had been struggling to remain still and quiet that whole time. _Poor Harry… I want to be in Ron's arms! If only I could punch the Snape parasite without damaging my body and him being capable to retaliate! How can he be so bad at playing me? Why don't the others see something is wrong? Don't they know me? Does that mean I could fade into nothingness without their noticing it?_ She had so many things to ask Harry about what he went through. _And why had Snape not spoken about the exchange of body yet?_ She was impatient to enter the stage, and Madam Pomfrey's question gave her a cue. _I'll show him how better I am at impersonating him!_

"I have been awake the whole time, but I thought it'd be more convenient to gather information this way. I would have hated to create unnecessary drama and have to repeat myself. And before you say anything, Mister Potter, know that I don't want to discuss anything with you. So, leave me be."

She sneered at everyone's surprise and mentally held her tongue at Snape, whom she had felt tensing when he had heard his voice. She could not help feeling a twinge of sadness at Harry's hurt expression and Ron's anger. Really, it would make their lives so much easier if he could learn a little temperance. All in all, it was actually quite pleasant, not to tiptoe around everyone's feelings. _Had Harry's eyes always looked so piercing_? Making herself comfortable against the pillows, she crossed her arms over her chest and attempted to send a Don't-Cross-The-Master-of-Pain vibe.

Directly addressing Professor McGonagall, she declared, "I have something to add to what Miss Granger said about the Shrieking Shack. I…" Experiencing the same symptoms as Severus, she struggled to say something to the expectant faces around her. "I think she acted recklessly, and she should not have bothered."

The exclamations of indignation from her friends warmed her heart. And his body welcomed the rare sensation.

"You should thank Miss Granger for saving your life," Minerva all but ordered to the dour man.

"No, Professor. Professor Snape is right. I was reckless…"

"This is nonsense, Miss Granger. Although putting your trust in Mrs Malfoy was risky, you made a difficult decision which led to the best possible outcome. Severus, I, for one, am glad you are alive. I believe we'll need to talk about the past and the future, yours and the School's. I have to fill the role of Headmistress, at least until the beginning of the next school year, whenever that may be. I am going to continue my rounds around the school, and I will meet you in the office an hour before dinner, if that's agreeable to you." After a nod from him, she stressed he should be grateful to his saviour.

Looking mutinous, Hermione was jubilant and remembered all the rightful praises he had refused her. Dizzy with the possibilities, she managed to control herself.

"If you insist," she said, turning towards him and trying not burst out in laughter at her singularly bewildered face. "I, Severus Snape, am grateful for Hermione Granger's surprisingly successful meddling which resulted in a resuscitation which I'm sure will make everyone in this castle cry with joy. Thank you very much for the burden of life."

Rolling her eyes, Madam Pomfrey assessed, "It is like pulling a Mandrake out of the soil, isn't it? Well, it will be a pleasure to see you billowing about, Severus. I have to go back to my patients. Without a nap, I am afraid I can't keep the _Sanctuary Spell_ up for too long, right now. I'll see you both in two weeks' time, for a check-up."

"I will leave with you, Poppy. You can go to your dorm whenever you like. The password for the Gryffindor tower is "Victory". I will see you all at dinner. Severus, if you wish to thank Mrs Malfoy in the same glowing terms, maybe Poppy can ask Draco Malfoy to make her go to the Head's office whenever he sees her."

"That would be most convenient."

"That's settled then. I really must go. Take care, everyone."

Their hasty departure left the remaining people in an awkward silence spiced up with a choreography of eye glances. Crumbling under the pressure, Ron asked the others what was the _Sanctuary Spell_. Without thinking, Hermione answered. She almost slapped her hands over her mouth when she realised it was such a Hermione-ish trait. In for a penny, she tried to cover her mistake with a bored tone and a haughty stare. She imagined a tiny Hermione reprimanding an embarrassed Severus for a textbook answer.

"The Hospital wing has been built with complex enchantments giving the Matron the power to activate the protective candles shielding her charges from harmful intentions, during dire circumstances. Obviously, it is very draining. Now that you have demonstrated your abysmal ignorance, is there a reason why you are still here?"

Harry was very confused by how he should address the man. He still wanted to speak with him, and was hoping that he could do so soon.

"We're waiting for Luna… Sir. But I guess we don't have to stay here anymore." Old habits really died hard. He was following the same pattern: bowing to his authority and acting rebellious because of his unfairness. _Whatever. I am not going to forget everything I've learned about him. There's always a reason behind everything he does. I just have to learn to be patient. And I have all my life for that_. That simple fact still amazed him.

Hermione was getting tired of the pretence. And even though her neck wound had healed, the skin of the scar felt too tight for comfort. For the first time since the worst moments of living in a tent with two boys while menstruating, she could not wait to be rid of them. _Hey, will Snape menstruate? That is so rich!_ But before she could gloat, a weight settled on her stomach when she realised he would see and smell such an intimate side of her, notwithstanding the access to her memory. _Ugh!_ _Hopefully, that won't be an issue if Mrs Malfoy comes through._

"Well, as much _fun_ as this is, having my _favourite_ people around my "un-deathbed", I really would like some privacy. As you can see, the bathroom offers none and I do not fancy an audience, unless you have developed a weird attraction to me. No? Then run along. I'm sure you all have things you'd rather be doing."

Severus was blushing in anger at his ersatz. "But, Professor, I'm still feeling quite feeble. If you don't mind, I would like to rest until dinner."

"I do mind but I will forbear. Consider this my way of repaying your meddling."

Gritting her teeth (_Hey! That is a very bad habit! My parents… Hum, better not think about them._), he exchanged annoyed looks with the boys. It was troubling to be commiserating with them, against himself. "Thank you, Professor. I'll be no trouble at all."

_I will remind her who the most powerful wizard around here is._

Standing up, Hermione replied "I seriously doubt it, but do your best. Perhaps you can begin by closing the drapes."

After a hesitant "See you soon" from Potter and Weasley, Severus grudgingly complied.

Hermione momentarily grabbed the fabric in order to stay up. She was not used to being so tall, so far from the floor. It made her think of her painful flying experiences. Snape's memories of it were at least more pleasant. _Someday,_ _I should try his technique of flying without a broom_. _Having access to parts of his knowledge sure is convenient._ A glare from her and her friends were gone.

Hearing the rustle of the drapes, she could not bring herself to look at the fuming form on the bed. She was close to regretting acting up. Maybe she had gotten too caught up in the performance. In fact, she could hardly remember what she had said.

"What the hell was that?"

Unwilling to act meek, she answered "It was classical Snape, in all his glory. Not so fun, when you are on the receiving end, is it? Plus, no one noticed a difference."

Going as far as criticizing his performance, she was rewarded with a stinging, "I did not hear your friends shouting "Impostor!" As long as we are in this situation, I expect you to act less conspicuously as you just did. We can't raise any doubt we would not be able to put to rest. Now,I'm going to use the facilities. Get into bed and I'll close the drapes."

She obeyed with a huff and mumbled, "It's not anything I have never seen before."

"You sound like a pervert."

"Actually, _you_ sound like a pervert."

"Oh, that is really mature."

"You're the one to talk."

"Alright, Miss Granger, fine, Hermione, let me make something perfectly clear to you. Whatever is happening between us, whatever good deed you think you did, we are _not_ friends. You are a very young and ignorant woman so do not pretend you know anything about me. I assume you are perceptive enough not to cross me. I can harm you without making a scratch to my body. And if you forget your place again, I'll have no qualms about handling the most intimate parts of you to my convenience."

She had many scathing retorts to that, but the drapes muffled the sounds of her outburst.

Having effectively vented his frustration on Granger, Severus stepped into the shell shower and undressed. He was finding it easy to adapt to this body, and appreciated its youth and elasticity. In order not to have to deal with her lower part more than necessary, he relieved his bladder in the shower. He also chose to ignore the pointing buds on top of the delicate swells of his chest, which begged to be cajoled. Contrary to his threats, he had no intention to approach those. Feeling the warm liquid between the smooth thighs as water began to pour from above, he unexpectedly thought of power figures getting aroused by being peed on. He could not comprehend why. _And why am I thinking about that?_ Shaking his head, he held out his hand for the shell which delivered the supplies needed by anyone using the shower. The pink and golden goo might make that mane of hair more manageable_. And it's quite heavy too. _The usual sponge was nowhere to be seen, so he applied copious amounts of creamy mousse over the soft rosy skin, purposefully superficial on the most intimate parts. Rubbing the tense muscles in slow circles felt amazing. So, he closed his eyes and indulged himself.

But by that time, Hermione had succeeded in making the drapes transparent and wanted to throw whatever was handy at him for making good on his threat. _How dare he touch my body that way? What a miserable satyr! _Nonetheless, she suddenly felt a foreign pull towards the wet figure that had nothing to do with anger. The pants she was wearing were getting tighter, and invisible ants were tickling and teasing up and down the length of her, of his… _He is sexually attracted to my naked body! Or am I attracted to myself? Which is more disturbing?_ Panicking, she opened the drapes without really knowing how, jumped out of bed wand in hand, and ran towards Snape, trying not to rub It with her legs. She was quite the ridiculous sight, and that did not please Severus one bit. Indignantly, she stammered "You are… having a reaction to me! Make it stop!" Normally, she would not have reacted so irrationally, but the idea of someone doing whatever they wanted with her body was galling after what she had suffered through during the war. Still, if there had been a magical portrait on the wall, it would have laughed or been shocked because of the sheer absurdity of the scene. A naked but immodest Hermione glared loathingly at a flustered Severus who was pointing accusingly at his crotch.

Severus groaned at the nuisance who was disturbing the most agreeable shower he'd had in a long while. And he disliked seeing himself looking like a nervous teenager.

"Could you just not peep? And just so you don't imagine I ever had a design on your person, I'll have you know it is the reaction of any healthy heterosexual male. It has nothing to do with you." He could only hope she would not search his memory for his sexual experiences._ That would be the last straw. It is private! PRIVATE, DAMN IT! _"Now, stop acting like a fool and think of the least appealing thing you can."

_Fenrir Greyback? Dolores Umbrige? Rita Skeeter? Well, that took care of it._ But she looked at Snape towelling her body, and she ended up right back at the beginning. Noticing her expression, he growled, pulled her in the shower and turned on the water freezing cold. He had to suffer through high-pitched shrieks coming from his mouth, while she was struggling to get free from his grasp. Forgetting her new strength, she pushed him away from the icy stream. Trying to keep him from falling resulted in her following him to the floor, crushing him under her soaked robe. At least, the water had durably taken care of her…erection. She caught a look at her armpits. Without thinking, she held her body down and pointed her wand at him. Severus stopped struggling because of the calming effect of being in contact with his skin, and looked apprehensively at the wand. But she only used it to remove unwanted hairs on her armpits, and her legs, and stomach. She could not help but being mortified at the idea of anyone thinking her unkempt, least of all him. She had always feared people would assume it came from her being a "dirty Mudblood_"_.

Moving to the side and motioning for him sit up, she did not question his sudden diligence. With a Transfigured brush, she lovingly combed her hair which she currently missed most of all. Letting her do the work, he relaxed in her care, savouring the closeness with his dexterous hands. The floating shell presented her with clear ochre oil that had the texture of Shea butter and smelled like almond and argan oil. She massaged it into the hair from the scalp to the tips. She then braided it unevenly. Taking over with sneer, Snape remade the braid and ignored her while Summoning clothes from the beaded handbag he took out of his sock. He nodded appreciatively at its enhanced capacity. Enviously watching him putting on underwear, a summer dress he made black, and a Muggle coat Transfigured in a strict cape (_without even asking for my permission_), she wrinkled her nose at the memory of her mistake. If Snape had not been on their side, letting Phineas hear them would have proven fatal. Yet, it had helped them tremendously. Arching his eyebrows at her, he added a black ribbon at the tip of his braid and pedantically informed her that "The room provides what you need if you ask politely." _So, you probably never get anything from it._ He let out a mocking laugh, as though he could read her mind. Following his lead, she pointedly ignored him when he said "I warn you not to ogle my body or the consequences will be dire."

She undressed, and took a quick warm shower. Never glancing below the waist, she could feel his eyes burning holes through her back. She washed her hair, and vigorously scrubbed the tense skin. She wished someone would rub her back. But Skeeter would become an honest journalist before he showed kindness, even to himself. A massaging tool appeared. That poor substitute for human contact still elicited a shiver of pleasure in the deprived body. Sure, he drove people away because he had a high opinion of himself, or a low one of everyone else. But, he also made sure no one could get close enough to have the power of rejecting him. All the same, he deeply craved attention and appreciation. His body's reaction to her touch fed her intuition of those facts, but she would not understand its full meaning for several weeks. Knowing she would gain nothing from overanalysing that paradoxical man, she asked the room for a towel, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and so on.

She draped the towel around her waist and used her wand to shave her face. Not ready to linger on her current appearance, she decided that while she was in there, she would take a better care of his body than he had done, starting with his teeth. Maybe Dumbledore had books on grooming for men. She put on the clothes selected by the room. As she was heading towards the small library, Snape was watching a porthole. He announced Narcissa had almost arrived in the office and ordered her to stay there, because they were to have a private talk. Unbeknownst to her, he cast a cleaning charm on his mouth to clean his teeth and freshen his breath, and left. Instead of arguing, she explored his memories of the woman, which frankly was nothing she could not handle, and realised she could not observe him in a porthole. Obviously, he was trying to irritate her and doing a great job of it. _Should I use the Extendable Ears?_

Severus wanted to keep the upper hand on her and information was power. But it was not his only reason to keep her at bay. He always slightly shifted his persona for maximum effect with every interlocutor. He did not need to deal with her interferences. Moreover, he was almost sure he could be Severus Snape with Narcissa and would enjoy it. _For once._

_Oh sweet solitude where one can be true to oneself! _Sitting at the desk, he was glad none of the portraits were in their frames. Although their absence meant he could not ask them who had used the Floo powder. His eyes fell upon the bottle of memories and a note. _Potter… _Not allowing himself to ruminate his feelings on the subject, he regained what was rightfully his.

Soon after entering the room, Narcissa walked towards Granger's body and exhaled "Severus…" She offered him one of her rare smiles, "You look well." She kneeled by his puny frame and stared in the young woman's eyes. He was touched by her genuine concern. They stayed that way for a while, before she levitated a chair by his side and proceeded to answer his questions.

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I have created a playlist with the chapter titles/ song titles (**youtube.com/playlist?list=PLjxfDF3OUbnT2HHvMV-Qy2A168g0MpIRy**). I will update it before publishing every new chapter. So, I **CHALLENGE** you to share your opinion on what will happen next based on those songs! I wonder who will guess right.

Thank you to my insightful reviewers, you know who you are. ;)

I am happy to report I did more than squeal in merriment. I randomly inflicted the tale of my readers from all around the world upon many of the people I met. Those poor people…

Just so you know, there was a reference to Daria somewhere in this chapter.

As usual, thank you to the "Betalicious" **Zarathustra46****.**


	5. Isn't It A Pity?

**Chapter 5: Isn't It A Pity? (Nin****a Simone)**

"I can imagine you're feeling cross but it was the only effective mean I had at my disposal."

He unconsciously folded his arms over his chest and crossed his legs. "Why did you choose her?"

"Who else? I couldn't sacrifice anyone from my family. And a witch or a wizard willing to risk some part of her or him for you was crucial." She lightly tapped her fingers on the desk, clearly finding stating the obvious repugnant.

Mysty popped in, quietly deposited a notebook covered with snake skin in front of Severus and left. Severus' eyes narrowed at the tacky object and the memories it brought back.

Dispassionately, Narcissa explained the circumstances of the creators. "You'll have to decipher Falcifer and Soteria Crownthorn's code yourself. The ritual components were retrieved from their home after they passed away. They used to live in Bath but you will get nothing from their acquaintances since they evidently kept their experimentation a secret. They were trying to create a device that could save their daughter who was dying from some Muggle illness. But she died anyway and all that remained was the replica of the ritual. They had planned on selling it to cover their costs. Lucius' contact at Borgin and Burkes caught wind of their story and we managed to secure that replica for our collection. As you know, service under the Dark Lord can be hazardous and we thought we would not be amiss to keep it."

They shared an eloquent smirk. "Indeed…"

"At any rate, it would have been used as a last resort, since it had not been tested."

"But you had no qualms about endangering Miss Granger's life, nor mine?" Despite his irritation, his tone remained even, and she replied coolly. They might as well have been discussing the Goblin Rebellions for all the interest they showed.

"That danger paled in front of the one your life was already in. I did not take the risk lightly but you had been so obliging when I came to you. Concerning Miss Granger, she made her own choice. I did not force her to do anything."

"You did present the facts in a way that made refusing very difficult," he pointed out.

"Are you concerned about her?" Her body language revealed she was finding the situation slightly amusing. It made his reply come out more abruptly than he had intended.

"I am only concerned with myself. You put me in a very problematic position. And you still haven't told me if it is permanent."

"Nothing is certain with this kind of magic. The only information left is in the notebook. What I know is that the device is triggered by a magical individual's desire to save a dying person. That desire seals a contract between the two parties. It leads to a necessary loss for each of them as a price to save the endangered life. The mind switch is required for mending the damaged body. I'm guessing that after the losses happen, you will switch back. Now, I do hate to be discourteous, but I really need go."

Standing up, she added, "Severus, words can't express my gratitude for your help. Draco is doing well and has an opportunity at a bright future. We will all have to deal with the Ministry, but we do have experience with those bureaucrats. So, if our affairs are sorted before your own trial, you can count on our unofficial support."

"Do you have any idea on their intentions towards me over there?"

"Well, Kingsley Shacklebolt has been appointed Minister. You know him better than I do. He seems hardly corruptible to Lucius, and not overly fond of Death Eaters. As soon as things calm down, you can expect to be called upon to answer for your misdeeds. Farewell, Severus."

Before the door closed, he distinctly heard her praise, "By the way, you are good to her. She almost seems capable of poise and elegance."

Chuckling to himself, he nonetheless noticed she was impressed with Granger's success. Thinking about her made him look at the ceiling where he saw a shimmer around the tip of a fleshy string, one of those Weasley toys. This was getting exhausting. His annoyance made her baby hair stand on his forehead.

"I wonder why you insist on aggravating me."

Storming in his quarters, he saw she was far from feeling contrite. She was angry at him for trying to keep valuable information from her. Moreover, she was displeased by the lack of positive Intel she had gathered.

He silenced and immobilized her with a flick of his wand. "Since you are incapable of behaving, I am confining you to this room until Minerva comes in the office. Limit the information you provide. Use the shreds of common sense that are still at your disposal and accept a teaching position for the least possible time. Concerning your probable arrest, only ask her opinion on the right defence, time and protection. If you have to follow Aurors, do it without resistance."

Continuing to give her instructions, he used "_Reducio"_ on his trunk after taking clothing she would need and putting it in her handbag. He gave it back to her after copying its appearance with his resized trunk that he pocketed. It was with reluctance that he exchanged wands, and put his oldest companion on the bed. So she would learn her lesson, he ostentatiously used an incantation on the exit space, and freed her body only to hex her with the _No Evil Monkeys_, causing temporary deafness, blindness, and muteness. Smirking at her vain efforts at getting a vengeful hold of him, he overlooked one of her haphazard kicks which made a booted contact with his shin. Tearing up at the pain, he forced himself to leave before he hurt his body irreparably. He could imagine the headline. "Hermione Granger Bested the Infamous Severus Snape." _I am going to the library. Yes, that's right, the library... And maybe I can get some peace and quiet, work on the notebook and forget my future is in the hands of a nineteen-year-old Know-it-all. From Voldemort to Albus to Granger… Am I destined to be a pawn forever? _He grabbed the notebook, and gladly anticipated the world outside of their miserable nest.

* * *

After Luna had left the Headmaster's quarters, she found Ginny and brought her up-to-date on her friends' situation and Harry's worry about her well-being. She also stopped a few times to give a little comfort to mourners, congratulatory hugs to jubilant survivors, and more or less helpful tips to Aurors. Finally, the Headmistress followed her to the Infirmary to fetch Madam Pomfrey. Luna readily accepted to keep an eye on the patients in her absence. Her father had often told her she had a healing presence.

What a coincidence that at that exact time a blue and yellow parrot would fly in from the open window. Her father had begun using him because he did not trust owls. He was certain that owls were a very meddling species actively orchestrating the delivery of messages in a way that suited their own purposes. Luna thought it actually made a lot of sense. The letter, which was rolled around a small Self-Inking Quill, enquired about her welfare. She was to stay at Hogwarts until their house was repaired. Her father also begged for her forgiveness after explaining what he had done to her friends. He had acted poorly in a desperate attempt to preserve her life. Writing her answer on the back of his letter, she made sure to stress her sadness, her understanding, and her unconditional love. She added that he needed to directly apologise to them, if he wanted forgiveness.

The future of her relationship with her father being handed over to the flamboyant messenger, she went to tend to the patients' needs. It was quiet as most of them were still dreamlessly asleep, or distracting themselves with novel Muggle board games. Those had been Madam Pomfrey's way of rebelling against the new school management. Anyway, the more difficult cases had been sent to St Mungo's. Going into the Nurse's office to take a look at the Potions, she was intrigued by the sight of the blond young man half lying on the desk.

The room was dimly lit by relaxing blue, orange and green flames on top of the candles. The colourful light dispersions dancing on the walls made her think of coloured glass windows she once saw in a Muggle village she had visited with her father. They probably had the same protective qualities as the lights in the Headmaster's quarters. He was a Slytherin she had heard girls talk about. He was considered handsome and a good "catch", before his father went to Azkaban. The previous year, he had seemed quite troubled and Myrtle insisted to whomever would listen that Harry had tried to kill him. Then, she remembered it was at his family home that she had recently been detained. _What is his name again?_ _Something like lake…_

Speaking of lake, she moved in closer to the sleeping figure. His soft breath was making some of strands of hair float around his face, as if he were submerged in water. _That's an idea…_ Inspired, she went with the familiar compulsion. She opened her hare locket and took out her painting supplies which hovered serviceably by her hands. Wasting no time, she sketched him. He had delicate features, even if his jaw was a little stiff and his brow furrowed. On the contours of his eyes the bluish fatigue was mixed with a reddish tint of worry. He looked a little feminine. But before she applied the water and colours, she felt something was missing. She was seeing a mixture of youthful defiance and weariness, defencelessness and resolve… As if in a trance, she created another reality, one in which he was in control and safe. She would be hard pressed to explain why adding an adorable child bearing a striking resemblance to him snuggling in his arms, a contented smile on the protector's face, and floating hair, foam sheets , aquatic plants as their bed, and forgiving light shining down from the surface, seemed like the most important and accurate thing to do at that point.

The result was unexpected, but she was sure it carried a hopeful message. The blue-green water could be construed as morbid but also slightly sensual. Even if it could seem a suffocating world to most, she thought it symbolized one that he was used to navigating in. And his strength visibly came from the innocent form in his arms. The world she had created felt tangible and expressed her faith in the future of the distressed sleeper. Putting her supplies and a copy of the drawing in the locket, she extended her arm to place the original next to him. Without being able to react, her brain registered the swift motion of the body, the angry grey eyes, and the menacing wand. She winced at the narrowing grip on her wrist.

"It's quite painful, you know," she informed him matter-of-factly. If he had not been touching her, he would have thought her an apparition. There was something eerie about her.

"Who are you?" he asked. He vaguely remembered her on the distant background of his Hogwarts life, part of the faceless inconsequential crowd, and also something about a Quidditch commentary. _Who cares anyway? It doesn't matter. No, wait! She was one of the prisoners at the Manor. _He recalled the Dark Lord's displeasure. It was hard to believe that threat was not hanging over his head anymore. Through his musing, he heard her answer. And she asked him if his name was Drake.

_So, why was she staring at me in my sleep? How very creepy… Yet she does not know my name. It might be pretence, though. Argh, I don't need more troublesome people in my life!_ He answered her question circumspectly. But she did not give herself away. He lowered his wand, let go of her wrist, and tried to maintain his composure by holding on to the desk. A crisp sound directed his gaze towards a drawing of… _Me? Sleeping with a child?_ He doubted he could ever look that relaxed. Carelessly pushing the strange drawing in her direction, he sat back down because of a slight vertigo. He attempted to taunt her to cover up his display of weakness.

"Who is the child? Ours?" he contemptuously asked.

She examined her creation as though someone else had drawn it. "It really depends on you. It can represent your future offspring, your inner self, or a symbol of your family, or even all of that. It's not my choice to make," she replied with the expression of someone e obvious.

"How can it not be your choice when you put it there?" _This is absurd…_

"Oh, I get it," she blurted out. Her head was bobbing up and down animatedly.

"What are you getting at?" He could not hide his vexation anymore. _Leave already… I'm so tired I can't think. What if she is only trying to distract and attack me?_

She was oblivious of his yearning for privacy. "I understand, now. That is what's bothering you: what you are truly responsible for."

"You don't know that! I've never even talked to you before today, and I did not give you the right to use my image!" His fatigue combined with his nervousness at the idea of someone really seeing made him sound like a petulant child.

Luna ignored his anger, and placed both hands on the desk in order to lock eyes with him. "But that's exactly what I meant. I drew what you inspired me to draw. Your interpretation of the drawing is the one that truly matters and gives it real meaning. It's your choice." The rare opportunity to share her views on art made her eyes shine.

He stayed silent. His expression was closed but she knew he was thinking about what she had said. Unexpectedly, he appeared to admit defeat to whatever he was fighting. He looked lost and vulnerable. He truly was taking everything she had said to heart.

Sometimes, she envied people's ability to lose themselves in their emotions. She felt the same way with her friends, so desperate for an intimate connexion with a mate. She doubted ever being capable of entering that type of relationship. Maybe the early loss of her mother had tampered with her ability to relate to others in such an unprotected manner. Being harassed by her classmates had not helped either, not that she cared all that much about what they thought.

Perhaps Draco was bowing to the mysterious apparition's wisdom out of fatigue, because he plainly asked "Do you think I am completely responsible for what I did, when I had no choice?"

She forgot to consider his feelings and focused on the problem. "I couldn't possibly say without knowing the details." His shoulders slumped slightly. "However, I believe the answer you seek lies within the scope of reality in which you made those decisions. If the decisions you made were truly imposed on you, it stands to reason you could not be expected to entirely carry the blame for whatever consequences they led to. You have to ask yourself if you intentionally avoided better alternatives that were available to you for reasons such as prejudice, fear, or pride."

Draco rightly feared the near future in which he would be held accountable for all the wrong he had done. _Was it entirely my fault, though? Don't others have a responsibility too? _Feeling overwhelmed, he looked down and heinously dug his fingers in his Dark Mark. _If all that pressure could only go away! And blaming Potter just doesn't work anymore. _He had forgotten the girl was even there but he felt the cabinet being opened and minty unguent applied on the red crescent moon marks on an increasingly purple patch of skin. Maybe the cool fingers could purge him from the poison of the Mark. Forcing himself to look at her in the eyes, he croaked "I think… Both."

She nodded with an understanding smile. "All the same, you can concentrate on what you can repair. But are you looking to avoid retribution, or to atone for the past?"

With a contrite rictus, he answered "Probably both, again."

_But what can I do? I could apologise to Granger, and Weasley, and Potter, and Longbottom, and how many more? That would be painful. Is it necessary? I did try to help them at the Manor. Still, I could thank them for saving my life and Goyle's, who is on the run right now_._ Would they believe in my sincerity? Would I be sincere?_

Luna was examining the Mark while her fingers continued applying the unguent on the skin. Following her gaze, he was startled by the bruises forming where he had grabbed her.

"I was responsible for startling you, although it's no excuse for using violence. I don't blame you for it. You shouldn't either." _It was worth it to have discovered another facet of a fellow human being, and immortalize it through art._

Nevertheless, he sought to repair his fault immediately. _No better time than the present._ The unguent made the tip of his fingers throb to his heartbeat.

She gasped when it made contact with her flesh. "Delightful… And look, it is all gone. Sometimes, it can be as simple as that, can't it?"

Healing her gave him the same feeling he had encountered while helping Madam Pomfrey. As if a weight was being lifted off his shoulders. He could affect the world positively, after all.

Luna could see a realisation had struck him. She told herself to remember that moment. It could fuel her creativity for a long while. "Do you enjoy playing Healer?" she asked while putting the unguent back in the cabinet.

"What if I do? What's it to you? What are you doing here?" He was definitely more aware and got defensive again. Suddenly, the candle lights returned to normal.

"I think Madam Pomfrey's back. I was keeping an eye on the Infirmary for her but I got distracted. It has been a treat meeting you. You can keep the drawing if you like." Opening the door, she added "You certainly look a lot like your mother, don't you? Well, beware of the Scelestus Trapdahu." Just like that, she left to greet Madam Pomfrey.

As she was walking toward the two women, Luna overheard Madam Pomfrey talk about the meeting in the Head's office. _Mm, I should ask a portrait to keep watch and tell me when the path is clear for me to talk with Hermione._

Flabbergasted, Draco mechanically put her artwork in his robe before going to his mother. He then heard about special sleeping arrangements for him at Hogwarts. Since none of the Houses were completely safe for him, the Headmistress had agreed to make a guestroom available, until legal matters were dealt with. An elf would be carrying his personal effects into the room and lead him to it after their conversation. His parents had decided to work on ensuring their freedom on their own. He was supposed to focus on his studies, as if nothing had happened. He did not have to worry about the future. He was a Malfoy. He would never have to want for anything. They would be safe and happy together at the Manor soon enough.

* * *

Right after leaving Hermione and Snape, Ron and Harry had arrived in the office. Dumbledore's portrait was smiling at them. Harry talked with him, repaired his faithful wand, and broke the Elder Wand over his knee. He decided to lay the pieces by Dumbledore's grave later on. In the meantime, he lit up a fire and used the Floo powder to try to get a hold of the Minister. Before his head surfaced over there, he felt a magical current pass over him. He had to state his name and reason to call on the Minister, and was rewarded by the reassuring sight of a worn-out but determined-looking Kingsley Shacklebolt. The office was empty apart from piles of parchment on the desk and notes flying in. "Congratulations, Minister. I am sure you will do great. I won't take much of your time. I just wanted to talk about Severus Snape."

"Please, call me Kingsley, Harry. I only have a few minutes before a meeting. What about him?"

"Do you know he is alive?" He nodded. "I want justice for him, a fair hearing. I have proof he was on our side all along and I want his name cleared, so he can remain free and unharmed. Placing the bottle in front of the hearth, Harry warned him. "The information I am about to share with you is fairly sensitive."

Kingsley immediately placed the memories in his official Pensieve. After re-emerging from the past, he looked adequately puzzled.

"So, Albus was right to trust him. What a convoluted scheme…" He was mostly talking to himself. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will share the information through the proper channels with my own memory of it and will vouch for Severus. He will appreciate you bringing those back to him. As of now, all I can do is issue a statement reassuring parents and the rest of the population by declaring I have evidence of his innocence. If Minerva agrees, he shall remain in the School's custody until his trial. That way, he will be able to help out by teaching. Your speech to Voldemort will probably raise many questions. You will have to ask people to wait patiently for his trial. The Ministry's priority right now is catching the remaining Death Eaters and other threats, and restoring the dignity of Muggle-borns and other people that were persecuted. But, you should know that on your birthday there will be an official celebratory ceremony. I think you understand people need rallying symbols. But I won't put you on the spot more than necessary."

Harry was grateful for the small favour. He informed Kingsley that "Draco Malfoy was not completely on Voldemort's side either. And his mother helped me by concealing the fact that I was alive."

"Duly noted... You may be called upon to testify for all of them." As the voice of Percy Weasley started to pass information through an animated statuette, Kingsley gave Harry the bottle of memories back and dismissed him. Back in the Head's office, Harry put the bottle on the desk and wrote a note for Snape.

Having tied up the most pressing loose ends, Harry was inordinately cheerful. Now that Voldemort was out of his system, he realised what a burden it had been on his mind. He felt less angsty. That begged the question of when in the past he had truly been himself. But it would do no good to dwell on the past. Evidently, he would mourn for the dead, but he would get the life he had always wanted, with the family he had in Hermione and the Weasleys. On top of that, he was on his way to become an Auror and be recognized for his own abilities. His future appeared joyful and radiant.

Speaking of radiant joy, he took out the Marauders' Map from his pouch and looked for Ginny. He could not wait to be back with her. And he was ready to do whatever it took to help her through the loss of her brother. That reminded him to tell Ron about Percy. His reaction was surprisingly subdued. It was understandable for Kingsley to employ him. He did know the ropes of the Ministry, and was well-organized and zealous. But would it not reopen fresh wounds? Ron's lack of reaction led him to believe he was overthinking it. Ron was fine. He was handling Fred's death better than expected. They agreed Harry would join Ginny in the Gryffindor tower while Ron would go help with the outdoor repairs.

"_Mischief managed_."

They exchanged a meaningful grin before going their separate ways.

Ginny was waiting for Harry in the common room. They held each other tight and kissed passionately. And for blissful minutes, he was in Heaven. But Ginny abruptly broke the kiss and firmly pushed him one foot away. Her hands were still on his chest. She was frowning and blushing as her eyes focused on that area. It soon became clear to him, because of her rapid delivery, that she had rehearsed her speech.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I have waited for you for so long. You left me, and I accepted it. Then, you come back and I am supposed to take you back without reserve. But I can't right now. I still love you and I want to be with you. I understand you had a mission, and you saved me and the wizarding world more than once. But you treated me like a little girl, and I am sick of it. Yesterday, you did not support me. We're supposed to be partners. And if I had been part of the fighters from the beginning, I might have been able to protect Fr-." Her voice broke. But after taking a deep breath and taking another step back, she interrupted his protestations.

"I know you care for me, but I need time to decide what I want out of life. If you really want to be with me, you'll give me some space."

"How much time do you need? A week? A month?" Harry blankly asked.

"I think I would rather wait until I am done with my exams." _That long?_ "By the way, did you use the Marauder's Map to spy on me while you were away? Because I often felt someone was watching me and I asked my brothers about it. They told me that if the detection spells did not work, it might come from being observed for too long on that Map. I'm sorry but if it's true, I find it a little bit stalker-ish."

With a sinking feeling, Harry sat on an armchair, and pretended he was fine with her decision. A red-cheeked Ginny gladly escaped the tense atmosphere and left the room. Thankfully, nobody was close enough to have heard their discussion. He could wallow in unhappiness, while faking interest in the people who insisted on greeting him. _Brilliant…_ At least, he was pretty sure his scar would never hurt again. That was something...

* * *

When Harry had left, Ron had been grateful to finally be alone because he did not think he could hold it in anymore. He had been doing a great job at hiding his growing uneasiness. He could not pinpoint exactly when he had become aware of the unusual tension in his body. When he had imagined things returning to normal with Hermione and the others, it started to spread to his arms and torso. At first, he had thought it was because of Snape's unnerving presence. So, he had hidden rather well the stiffness of his arm by pointing at the mattress. But that stabbing pressure could not be explained nor deflected. And he was scared his friends would think him deficient and give up on him sort of like he had abandoned them, if he revealed how troubled he was. He needed to measure up to their idea of him: the funny easy-going Ron.

But where did that discomfort come from? Everything was better than ever with Harry and Hermione. And he was finally going to be part of the elite, as an Auror. Although, he had thought of a career in Quidditch… Anyway, what more could he expect out of life? Life... The smile he had plastered on his face for Harry was faltering. His brother, Lupin, Tonks, Colin, and too many more good people… He knew it was not noble, but he could not help wondering why they had to die, while the Malfoys, Goyle, and even Snape got to live. _Yes, I know he was on our side. Big deal, for all the good it has done us_. _He is so foul and twisted and yet Hermione and Harry are on his side. _He thought about his maimed family and began having difficulties breathing. He tried to think positive, like Harry surviving and destroying Voldemort. But it only reminded him of his friend's apparent death. There had been a hidden part of him, under the agony, which had been relieved he would not be second best anymore. Plus, he had felt ignored when Harry had talked so familiarly with the Minister, without including him. And he was still poor. Come to think of it, his love life was not stellar either. Hermione had been distant.

_That's it!_ He had to leave Hogwarts. It was all a big mess: love, deaths, and confusion… That reminded him of his former girlfriend's mangled throat. He felt sick about the way he had treated Lavender. He had to apologise. If he made that right he would feel better, wouldn't he? So, instead of going outside, he threw the Floo Powder into the hearth and stepped into the green flames. His mind was so set on his destination he did not notice the thumping sound coming from above, the only indication of the ongoing fight between Hermione and Severus.

"St Mungo's!"

The reception area was buzzing with activity. Outside of the Hogwarts Battle fighters from both sides, they were many "ordinary" incidents. The world kept on turning. He knew he would not be allowed by Lavender's side since they were not relatives or anything, really. He sat in the waiting area, watching the downtrodden pass by. It helped to concentrate on other people's drama.

To avoid being disturbed, he used the Disillusionment Charm on himself. He almost got sat on twice before he thought of going to an isolated corner. He could almost see Hermione rolling her eyes at his lack of forethought. A wizard reorganized all the pamphlets manually and said hello to everyone in the room before talking to the blasé receptionist. It took him a long time, with so many coming and goings. An elderly couple in front of him was repeating the same story over and over. It was not even a meaningful one. It was a dull argument about how many times they had beaten each other at Gobstones. Several children accompanied by smirking, exasperated or concerned parents, came in because of accidental magic. Dinnertime was less than two hours away when he uprooted himself from his stalling seat. After a little snooping, he too easily found out where she was, on an underground level, per her family's request. Frankly, he hoped St Mungo's' lack of security was only due to the war.

It was weird to think he would not have to fight or fear for his life anymore. Would a job and a family be enough to fill his life? _Of course, they would..._ His feet were so heavy all of the sudden. His brief time with Lavender flashed in front of his eyes: how she had shown her interest when he was desperate to prove his sister wrong, how she unequivocally saw him as a hero, the pleasure of losing himself in her touch, his pride at being desired, the way he used her and threw her away after he realised Hermione might not be averse to being with him, Fenrir Greyback attacking her... _UGH!_ _I'm going mental!_ His breathing was laboured as he came out of the lift. It must have sounded quite awful, because the Mediwitch who came in insisted to examine a visitor who shook his orchid around, assuring her his lungs were fine.

With the help of the Deluminator, Ron established she was in a room at the far end of the hall. It was protected by some kind of invisible shield. He waited around for someone to come in and open the door with no luck. And he was getting increasingly anxious at the prospects of either getting to see her or not.

As the hall remained empty, he was about to give up when the shield vanished and a man who had noticeably been crying opened the door, adjusted the hat on his head, turned back to smile encouragingly and said "Your mother will be by your side tomorrow morning." Her voice was so weak that Ron could only make out the word "Dad" when she answered. The man's face hardened. He chastised her. "Don't be absurd and don't let your mother hear you say that. You will overcome this." He then resolutely marched toward the lift. Ron slipped into the room before the door closed. What he was faced with was heart-wrenching.

A bouquet of roses and a Get Well Soon card with flying flamingos were sprayed on the floor which consisted of grass. It smelled like a blooming garden in the springtime. But that attempt at comforting the patient felt like mockery when his eyes fell on the frail body that had been full of exuberance just the day before. Lying motionless on the sheets, she was wearing a dainty nightgown. She was the colour of cinders and her lustreless hair contained white tresses from the fright she had experienced. Her thinness made her orbits protrude while the skin around her eyes seemed inflamed. She looked drained of life. There were steel cuffs on her wrists and shins. Those were magical restraints in case she partially transformed or tried to harm herself or others. Her still healing wounds looked much worse than Snape's and like Bill's. Ron made no move towards her. As he gazed over her yet another time, his heartbeat raced when he saw her eyes looking straight at him. But then, he remembered she could not see an invisible man. She was probably looking at the door, thinking about her father. Something in her intensely sad stare resonated with his own pain. Maybe he was not the only one who felt so very lost.

She turned her head over to the other side, burning drops of salty tears falling heavily on her pillow. That broke the spell. Unable to even begin to explain himself, and now certain he could not make anything right for her, he felt more inadequate than ever. He should never have come there. He noiselessly opened the door and left as fast as he could. At least, she would never know the extent of his foolishness and disrespect. Relieved by that thought, he did not see her turning her face toward the source of the gush of air which carried the distinct smell of Ron Weasley

In the hall, he was overwhelmed by shame. He was a coward. The only thing that made sense at that point was to throw a punch into the nearest wall. He welcomed the ache he knew he deserved. The throbbing knuckles made him feel more in control than he had in months. Little did he know as he left St Mungo's and Disapparated to Hogsmeade, that he had just begun two very unhealthy habits.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I want Hermione and Severus back! T_T" Me too, me too…

I hope you are not too depressed. It felt necessary. And you will understand why soon enough.

Anyway, it is now out of the way… Stick with me and you won't regret it!

By the way, if you ever want to share your thoughts and encourage me, you don't have to feel embarrassed. Go ahead, I will understand. Just throwing it out there… ;)

Zarathustra46 pointed out to me some problems with the dialogues. Be very grateful.

The next chapter might be a dream come true for some. I know it is for me.


	6. Getting Some Fun Out of Life

**Chapter 6: Getting Some Fun Out of Life (Madeleine Peyroux)**

In the meantime, Hermione was laughing hysterically_._

Of course, when Snape had hexed her, she had been could not believe he just used magic on her instead of trusting her, when she was nothing if not reliable. And she had as much right to know about the ritual as him. He knew he could get away with it because there was no way she would complain to anyone. At least, she got to kick him, even if she had really ended up hurting her body.

She had not lied when she had mentioned a necessary bathroom break to the boys. She found the bathroom and felt her way to her ceramic goal. With only her slightly enhanced sense of smell to make sure she was completely alone, she fumbled around with his many-layered costume. That reminded her she had to practice his characteristic walk. She never had to care that much about her appearance when she was a woman. Anyway, she found the disturbing appendage which was behaving quite docilely. She gingerly touched it with her fingertips, making it wobble from side to side. She wondered how fragile it was. After all, it was not this body's fault if his previous owner had issues. _What am I going on about? It's just a penis, for God's sake! It's not sentient. It's not Snape's plant, ready to spy on my actions, and report back to him at the first occasion._ She had to grab it and make it her own, for however long she was in that body. So, she pretended it was not his. It was hers for the time being, and it was okay. It was all part of an interesting sociology experiment, and everything was under control. Plus, she could use that opportunity to familiarize herself with the male anatomy and understand Ron better, although he was fairly easy to read. She chuckled because the two men were too dissimilar.

Oh, she really hoped Snape was not there. If he caught her laughing, his other wand in hand, he might threaten to walk around naked in her body, or mess up her test scores. _By the way, is he going to test for her N.E.W.T.s in my place? _She decided to stop her upsetting musings by focusing on aiming the flow the right way. It was a surprisingly amusing toy. She wondered how far it could go. Having relieved her bladder, she noticed how bizarre it felt to hold that part of the male body, and feel it being held from the inside. It was soft, tender, warm, and very sensitive, more malleable than she had expected. That was quite enough time spent on the subject, so she washed her hands and looked for a wand.

Struck by an idea, she concentrated on both of their knowledge and experience in Wandless magic. Her attempt did not lead to the wand jumping in her hand but she did feel a great pull towards it. She rapidly ended up by the bed. Then, she examined his memories for the hex he had used. It was temporary and could be cancelled by an admission of ignorance. _Ha!_ Contrary to some, she had no fear of admitting she was fallible, even though she would work hard on eliminating those flaws. The world was given back to her and she would have been triumphant had her extensive focus on his memories not left her with a slight nausea. She took comfort in the fact that it meant her memories might be protected has well. Now that she was feeling more like herself, her anger came back tenfold. Even though she had some ideas on where he came from, she needed to retaliate.

She pulled a book out of her beaded bag, asked the room for a large full-length mirror, a Polaroid, various clothes and props like a whip, tried to figure out appropriate songs for ambiance, and made a list of what she wanted to do to him in floating golden letters, including a few ideas heard from disgruntled students over the years. She cordially asked an elf for whipped cream, melted chocolate, and several types of fruits. Severus would never know what was coming to him. She almost cackled wickedly at that thought, but stopped herself because she was starting to creep herself out. She was in control again, that was the main idea, and she was going to enjoy it. She spared a thought for her twelfth-year old self, whose sense of justice he had profoundly offended, and the innocent students he had pained. She estimated she had more than an hour before the Headmistress showed up. Using a porthole, she discovered Snape was in the Library. _Perfect!_ The Universe obviously approved. Taking a deep breath, she savoured the moment. She then turned to the mirror and endeavoured to make Severus Snape say everything he ought to have said, and then some. She mimicked, at first a little clumsily, his mannerism. _Being dramatic seems contagious…_

"I, Severus Snape, being of suspicious mind and surprisingly sound body, apologise for embodying dunderheadness. To Hermione Granger, I was jealous of your brilliance and prospects. That is why I behaved so despicably towards you. You have to know I admired your dedication but resented the fact it could hurt my House. I also am deeply ashamed of the way I handled the part you played in my resuscitation. I was afraid to owe you my life. I also don't know how to live anymore. I'm not sure I ever did. I really am a man desperate for love, but scared of not deserving it. I confess I enjoy the power hurting people gives me. It is as close to revenge on my bullies as I am ever going to get. Even though everyone goes through hazing of some sort, I consider my youth the most unfairly unpleasant one ever. That and rejection from a person I had little in common with, apart from magical powers and a talent at Potions, led me to turn to the Dark Arts, to prove myself. That not having worked at all finally led to a mind-numbing job which allowed me to maintain a cover as a spy, feel superior to children reminding me of my old classmates, and perpetuate prejudice and bullying.

"Speaking of which, I apologise to Harry Potter for unfair treatment. You are not responsible for your parents' actions. If I could go back in time, I would keep my younger self from ever revealing the prophecy to the Dark Lord. If I had successfully hidden my discovery from him, I may have warned the Potters from Pettigrew's betrayal. They would have welcomed me into their circle and I would have become best pal with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. And I would have developed a cure to lycanthropy. I would have been part of their family of shiny happy people, like I have always secretly dreamt. I also wish I could take back the taunting I inflicted upon you, Mister Longbottom. Outside of the abysmal clumsiness, the lack of confidence and of concentration you demonstrated in my classes, I am ashamed to admit I blamed you for not having attracted the Dark Lord's attention away from Lily, the eternal light of my life. I honestly thought your parents' condition and your undignified behaviour made it acceptable for me to wish you all would have been sacrificed instead of her. I realise I have some issues to work through. Permit me to congratulate the way you stepped up this year. You also rid the world of the last Horcrux, and instrument of my doom. Those were no small feats, indeed! You and Potter are fine young men, and I could not be prouder of you if I were your father." She was really reaching, but what a blast! She continued with other superfluous apologies and compliments. Sweating with excitement, she also made him say humorous and ridiculous catchphrases.

After that, she adopted postures he never would in a million years, and impersonated fictitious and real people in his body. It was liberating. And she discovered she only had to touch the instruments on top of the piano to make them play whatever she wanted. She danced to more than a few of them. Needless to say, that day Severus Snape was a Lord of the Dance. For her last dance, she pretended his wand was a guitar and danced in a white shirt and boxer shorts, black glasses, socks and socks suspenders. She was so exultant she almost choked, which was a funny sight in its own right. But she knew she had to draw the line at physical torture, so she moved on. Really, was she that mean or was that man just gifted in bringing out the worst in others as well as himself? If it were in her character, she could have made thousands of Galleons with a Pensieve. Erasing most items from her list, she moved on to her next task.

Her parents were both avid readers, but with her father she had developed a taste for reciting literature. Poetry and theatre had their preference. Sadly enough, that pastime was cut short by her involvement in the magical world. Sitting comfortably in a club chair, she wished it were winter so there would be a cosy fire, a flavourful cup of tea, and chocolate truffles. Being with a loving family or friends would be nice too. At least, she was wearing the comfortable shirt and boxers. She began reading out loud her favourite passages of "Cyrano de Bergerac". Her edition presented both the French and English versions. The opportunity to use a story about a clever man feeling inadequate because of his appearance was too good to pass up. But after chortling at Mirror Snape mocking eloquently his nose, she got caught up in the story again. Cyrano was such an enthralling and epic character. She wanted to shake him out of his defeatism and hug him. What she admired was that he could be considered a swordmaster as well as a wordsmith with a loving and dignified soul. And she was delighted to give him justice through a very attuned instrument. How lucky was she to play with the warm tones and versatile quality of that low masculine voice? Snape was made for theatre. She was getting into the scene where he admits his love for Roxane to Le Bret. She began reciting the dialog in the original French. Even if her French was far from satisfactory in her opinion, her younger self had learnt it phonetically. She followed her urge to walk to the mirror and see his expression as she said the words. She immediately regretted it when she saw how dejected it made him seem. She stopped breathing when she realised there was a petite human form crouching behind the armchair she had just left. _Oh, he is going to annihilate me!_

"I didn't understand the words but the emotions were exquisitely vivid. Could I borrow that book, Hermione?"

"Lu-Miss Lovegood, what are you doing back here? I am not decent! And why did you call me Hermione?"

"Because, it's you. I know something happened between you and him. Are you pretending to be him? The rhythm of your diction is a little off, and you are slouching too much, if you don't mind constructive criticism."

Well, the cat was out of the bag, and Hermione was glad. She tried and failed to explain the situation. As her body was constricting, Luna put pacifying hands on her former Headmaster's arm.

"Don't hurt yourself by trying too hard. Some spells are tricky that way. You know, I've never seen that symptom before."

Luna would not have been Hermione's first choice for a confident, but she was definitely resourceful, insightful and loyal. Hermione tested the waters.

"So, how did you guess I was me and what are you doing here?"

"That's easy. You give off a very different impression. And it got more obvious when you began talking. But there is only a small part of his energy flowing from you. It's very unusual. I didn't tell the others because I thought you had a good reason for staying silent on the subject. When a friend I had on the lookout told me only you had passed the gargoyle in an agitated state, I figured you were really in the room and that you may be in need of company. Was I wrong?"

"No. You are incredible, you know that?"

"It's funny to hear those words coming from his mouth."

"Oh, that reminds me…" Her voice trailed as she hesitated to go on. But, the golden letters were still floating in air. "You have to promise me you'll never say anything about this, to anyone."

"I promise."

"You have to understand that since we woke up, Professor Snape has been behaving extremely callously towards me and this is a list of things I still have to do to make up for the grief he caused me."

"So, do you feel justified to use his body in this manner because he does not conform to what you expect from him? Would you tolerate him doing the same thing? " She only sounded interested, far from judgmental.

Refusing to back down, Hermione countered "That's not what this is all about. That man has a lot to answer for, so where is the harm in having little inconsequential fun at his expense in the privacy of this room?"

"Then, I should leave."

"Yes, but I could use your keen eye as well as your hands. To tell you the truth he has threatened more than once to use my body in a way that would embarrass me. So, this is really a pre-emptive measure to make sure I have revenge material, in case he goes through with it. I would never show the pictures to anyone else otherwise. I just want to play on the same level as him, if only to have the knowledge of a secret weapon. I don't intend on acting rashly. I only aim to empower myself." It was true. She had been mad at him but she didn't really want to hurt him, not with his memories sharing his viewpoint. And she needed to blow off some steam, not only because of him. Her games had also been a fine way to make the war less daunting.

After a few minutes of debate, Hermione and Luna enchanted an ironclad contract on the secrecy of their shenanigans, the limited conditions of a picture display by Hermione, the preservation of Snape's dignity and so on... After they separated, Luna's memories of what had transpired between them would be slightly altered and could not be shared in any way, even with a drawing or a Pensieve. Their sense of morality preserved, they felt entitled to some fun. Thus began the scandalously delicious photoshoot of Severus Snape.

The possibilities were endless.

Inspired among other things by Hermione's knowledge of Muggle culture, Luna used her artistic sense to reveal dormant facets: Doctor Severus and Mister Snape, Cute Sleeping Snape, The Piano Player (it turned out Hermione could play the beginning of a classical tune on the piano), Fallen Angel Snape, Masked Hero Snape, Evil Mastermind Stroking a Cat, Cardinal Sins Snapes, the Four Elements, Lion Tamer Snape….

As a regular imaginative bookworm, Hermione went for the improbable to the general public: Drag Snape, Snape Jumping Out of a Cake, Yummy Snape (with strategically placed whipped cream, and melted chocolate), Bubble bath Snape, Summer Catalogue Snape, Harlequin Cover Snape, Puppy Petting Snape, Snape in a Panda Bear Costume, and Hipster Snape…

And that was why Hermione was rolling on the floor and Luna clutching her stomach and wiping tears of joy off her face. Luna's cheeks looked as though she had frolicked in the sun all afternoon, and even Snape's had a healthy glow. Luna took one last photo of his expression because that innocent gaiety looked terrific on him. They were sprawled on the floor emitting sighs of contentment, and punctual giggles as they reminisced on what had just taken place. The room having provided them with a beautiful empty photo album, they personalized it and organized the photos. They added titles they had loads of fun coming up with: "A Snape Is Forever", "For Hallows Eve, I Have A Threat for You", "Get Ready For Some Long Hard Detention" (according to Luna, some Ravenclaws enjoyed those kind of innuendos related to strict teachers), "Do You Want To See My Dungeon?", "It Is Not Tough Love When There Is No Love", "Need a Hug?", "Got Potion?", "Rule Number 1: I Am Always Right/ Rule Number 2: If I Am Ever Wrong, Refer To Rule Number 1", "There Is A Dunderhead In All Of You", "Real Style Never Ages", "I Adore Children As Much As Any Sensible Person Would", "I Know What You Are Thinking, And There Really Is No Reason For You To Be Proud", "Slytherins Are Just Classier", "It's Not That I Am Not A Morning Person, You Just Aren't Interesting" among others. But upon looking at one of the motionless pictures, Luna made an astonishing discovery.

"Hermione, could you pull up that sleeve?"

Remembering her time with Draco Malfoy, she examined the skin where the Dark Mark should have been. In an awed silence, they could only stare alternatively at one another and the unblemished skin. Although they sensed they were sharing a special moment which was not theirs to revel in, they were deeply impressed by that revolution, that return to the point of origin. Hermione got a little misty eyed. That spoke of the intensity of the emotion swelling her torso. But she did not cry. His body's defences had not been broken yet. Still, that was the sign she didn't know she had been awaiting. She had been right to try to save him. He really had a chance at better life, with a newfound freedom. Rushing to tell him about it, she was reminded of her limitations. That quieted her enthusiasm. She focused on what she could do.

"Can you do me one last favour? Could you discreetly give the boys' possessions and necessary items back to him so he can redistribute them to Harry and Ron? Tell him I was nasty to you and gave you that task. I am not sure how he would react if he knew you knew we exchanged bodies. After we talk about it, we may ask you to divulge our situation. Until then, I must ask you not to tell anyone." While talking, she was placing their contract behind the last photo, shrinking the album and integrating it to a thin anklet delivered by the room and then used several charms to protect and hide it.

Luna was still in a daze, pondering the implication of the new development. _Why has it disappeared? Could it happen for the other one too?_

As Hermione was getting the boys' belongings from her handbag, Luna put off her musing, and replied "Of course. I should probably leave now. Thank you for a magnificent experience. It makes it even more precious that I never can relive it fully again."

That was too much for Hermione. She reached for her special friend who once upon a time annoyed her so, and gave her a hug, much needed on both sides.

"I understand, and I feel the same way. And I hope he finds someone who can appreciate the uplifting hugs he is capable of giving."

As they were smiling at each other, the floor door shimmered.

Guessing it meant McGonagall had arrived, Hermione asked the room to take back what she had asked for, and put the leftover food in her handbag, just in case, Vanished the golden letters, and put Severus' "armour" back on so quickly she might as well have used magic. She then turned to Luna to discuss strategy, but she had already taken the boys' belongings and hung on a descending rope. By the time a nervous Hermione arrived in the office, Luna had apparently given a satisfactory excuseand was taking her leave, but not before affirming that McGonagall would be an excellent Headmistress. She just nodded sternly in acknowledgement, but her face did relax to some extent. Hermione prepared herself to trick one of the sharpest persons she knew in their one-on-one meeting.

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I don't know about you but that felt good.

For those who are interested, I have an HP album with "fanart" related to this story: **flickr.com/photos/cm-pa/**.

A round of applause to Zarathustra46, my reviewers and my readers… And to celebrate the more than 2.000 views, the following chapter will arrive shortly.

¡Hasta luego!


	7. Little house

**Chapter 7: Little house (Amanda Seyfried)**

All in all, the meeting went well. Hermione began with a clarification on Severus' arrangement with Dumbledore. It turned out McGonagall had already had a talk with his portrait, which explained why he was making himself scarce at the moment.

She understood the reasons why he did not tell her what needed to be kept secret. And it had all worked out in the end. But there were so many things she could have done differently had she known, and less people would have suffered. What she really wanted to know was how Severus had done it: kill Albus, keep both sides in the dark while helping theirs, and protect the students while appearing to be heartless. She wanted to pry him open to understand how he functioned. Maybe it was her competitive side. She certainly was ashamed to have been fooled. But, above all else, she wanted to make it up to him for having misjudged him. Obviously, she knew it was not entirely her fault, but she prided herself on being fair. And she had known him for a long time, since before he had become so skilled at deflecting. As expected he replied to her apology with a "Don't mention it." He did not get that she was more worried about his hurt feelings than her own.

By then Hermione was thinking she should not be there for this. She was intruding again, stealing a meaningful moment. Maybe she and Snape could come up with a way to keep each other up-to-date on the important happenings and shifts they would have to take into account when resuming their regular lives. _Well, as regular as our lives can be._

Moving on, they talked about what was going to happen to Severus while the Ministry was organizing the trial. The Minister had entrusted an Unspeakable with the evidence of Severus' loyalty and McGonagall had vouched for him so he could remain in the Castle and continue teaching safely. She would act as a sort of guardian protecting him from the public, and making sure he would not try to run away.

That led them to the subject of the students. She informed Severus of what she had planned. There would be mandatory reviewing classes for the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s students in July and August so they would pass their exams during the last two weeks of August. During that time, Hogwarts teachers would be able to go on a vacation. The following year, tutoring would be set up with upperclassmen for anyone not up to par. More importantly, McGonagall was organising a cleansing ritual which should benefit the entire British wizarding community by the end of July. It was a shame it might not work on Muggles. Anyway, she wanted to wait before sharing the details.

Surprisingly, she asked for her opinion and advice on the School administration. Hermione used Severus' memories to see if there was something he wanted implemented. She only could be sure he did not want to stay at Hogwarts for more than a year and thought Slytherins should not live under the lake anymore. It was unsavoury and it only served to set them apart from the others even more. Hermione used that opportunity to convey his feelings and added that tables should not be attributed by House. And perhaps, at the beginning of the next year, the four Houses should be spread more harmoniously, in classes per year. There were already too many fractures among students. She had to stop there because she had many ideas that did not seem Snape-ish enough.

Frustrated, Hermione almost missed the revision of staff for the summer session. She wanted Severus to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts and surprisingly, Hermione to teach Muggle Studies as well as assisting her for Transfiguration. Hermione was stunned and flattered. That was until she remembered who she appeared to be.

"But, Miss Granger has not passed her N.E.W.T.s yet," she pointed out, although it was unnecessary.

"You know as well as I do that she could pass them tomorrow and get better grades than any of the other students," McGonagall argued almost proudly.

"After, the year she has had? You're not serious." Hermione did not have to fake astonishment at her mentor's confidence.

"I am almost positive she knows by heart every seventh year textbooks. She just needs to brush up on her practical skills." Her eyes were glowering at the man's lack of appreciation for Hermione's academic prowess.

_How does she know that?_ "How can you be so sure?"

"I know her. And for what it's worth, I was the same at that age." Her faraway expression revealed she was reminiscing about that time.

Pleased at the recognition, Hermione had to stop herself from jumping up and down in glee. But she did not want Snape to pass the exam for her, not when the grades could shape her whole future. She wanted to prove she could do better than anyone with her own skills. _How can I make that happen?_

She obnoxiously pointed out "I hear Muggles sometimes organize blind marking. Perhaps it would help guaranty impartiality. We would not want favouritism for Potter's friend now, would we?"

In a tone of distaste, Minerva offered a compromise. "If it would put your mind at ease, you can be her practical examiner, watch over her when she passes the written part, and cast necessary Anti-Cheating Spells. I'll send her anonymous answers to the Ministry to be corrected. It would be quite a time-consuming procedure for you. But, that way, Miss Granger will demonstrate she is talented enough to be accepted as a temporary teacher, until I find a more experienced replacement."

"That sounds more appropriate. Still, you'll have to discuss it with her. She might not feel up to the task." Hermione could not believe how easy it was to belittle herself.

His being harmlessly spiteful made Minerva feel strangely nostalgic. "Now I know you are just trying to get an intense reaction out of me. So, I'll give you the answer you deserve." She clasped her hands together, arched an eyebrow, and smirked at him, which made Hermione laugh. "I hope that means you will be more amenable."

"Do you mean more amenable than usual?" That was Minerva's turn to laugh. "Yes, quite… Well, I hate to disappoint, but I have one condition to my return as a teacher." She motioned for her to go on. "I don't want the Defence Against the Dark Arts position, nor the Potions' one. I will only teach Muggle Studies."

Minerva's eyebrows flew over the rim of her glasses. "Why? I fail to recall you ever mentioning interest in that class or that position."

"Nevertheless, I am interested now. Who knows? I could be trying to change my image, and become everyone's favourite teacher. Or I might just want a change of pace. It would be a symbolic way for me to put my Death Eater past behind me at any rate." Hermione could see a flicker of suspicion on the Headmistress' face. It upset her for some reason. "Oh, think what you will. You always did."

He was right to react that way, but he forgot he was the one that had made it so easy for others to assume the worst of him. Minerva had to force herself not to think he had hidden motives.

She decided to move past the familiar bout of mistrust on both parts, and directly dive into the subject matter. "Do you feel competent? I don't even think you took the class."

"I do. At any rate, I am more erudite and proficient than Miss Granger, on any subject."

"Tooting your own horn not being the least of them, I can see. If you are that confident, here is the paperwork. I expect it all filled out on my desk by the end of the week. Now, we have to discuss your sleeping arrangements." After laying down a large piece of parchment on the desk, she pointed at free quarters on a map of the castle. "Those quarters offer quite a lovely view of the lake which, I am sure, will make the poet in you melt. It has sea-themed decorations as well as a charming library space."

"That should do. Thank you, Minerva. By the way, will Miss Granger get luxurious quarters as well? It seems like quite an honour to bestow on her."

"I don't see why you care. Even you would not be that petty." _Ha!_ "Truthfully, it is not settled yet. I might just place her in the quarters facing yours. You have gotten so close. It would be a shame to separate such a well-matched pair." His eyes narrowed. He pursed his lips. And his cheeks slightly coloured from indignation. He looked younger somehow, and Minerva was having fun teasing him. "Who knows? You were so concerned she might not be a good teacher. She could benefit from asking for your guidance, on a daily basis. And that would benefit the School too. I believe we call that a win-win situation."

"I don't care for your insinuations. And may I remind you I've not signed anything yet?"

"I believe that is my cue to go talk to Miss Granger before dinner. Come upstairs with me to gather your personal effects."

Minerva went straight to a porthole. Luckily, the room showed no indication that Hermione had tried to punish Severus. She Transfigured her handbag into something resembling a shrinked black trunk in which she put the paperwork, and which she put in her pocket. After that, she went to look for a book on grooming for men, which she found and discretely used the Gemino Curse on. She looked at the piano and moved her fingers over the keys and fake-played the few notes she played for Luna. Her smile even reached Severus' eyes.

She left for her new quarters, and Minerva went to hire the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Hermione had enjoyed visiting her new quarters and filling her new library so much, she would be late for dinner if she did not hurry. Thank Merlin for long legs although she really did not have time to practice Severus' walk. As she entered, it became apparent she was one of the latest incomers. Minerva, Severus, Harry, Ron and Luna were already there. _Lovely… Well, let's get this show on the road…_

Severus was sitting between Harry and Ron who had thankfully remained silent. _Unpunctual idiot_, he thought as all eyes turned to his body, and the Great Hall went quiet_…_

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Can you believe that after so many chapters, it is still the same day? How absurd… ;)

Zarathustra46 took an impressive short time to look over that one. I think someone likes you…

Recently, I have been thinking about last words. For instance, when saying goodbye to my family to run an errand, I am focusing on what we say to each other. What if, for some reason that is the last thing we say to each other? What is meaningful enough? What deserves to be remembered? It's not morbid, in my opinion. It's just a way to be more in the moment and appreciate others more. Well, I am almost over it, as a distraction. But I can't be the only one doing it. It, it, it, it, it… Hello? Lo, lo, lo… Is this thing on?

Playlist updated. "See" you next chapter!


	8. I Bruise Easily

**Warnings:**

1: Some of you did not read the sixth chapter. That will teach me not to publish two chapters in such a short time. Anyway, you should go back. You are in for a treat.

2: It is getting a little darker in this chapter. But nothing like the horrors I have read in other fanfictions. ;) If you feel that warning is too soft, just tell me.

By the way, later on, the story might get "sensual" (said in a very ominous and creepy tone), not smutty-liquefying moments of passion, but more like quirky-funny intercourses. I cannot find the words to describe where I am going yet. Just you wait…

I am sending heaps of virtual steam sugary buns and fresh air to Zarathustra46, my reviewers, and the people who are reading this right now. No, now… Yeah, well, enjoy.

(Unimportant fact: I think house elves have a talent to get and preserve fruits even if it is not the right time of the year)

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**Chapter 8: I Bruise Easily (Julie London)**

Severus had had a blissful time away from Granger in the Library, apart from the busybodies who had thought it necessary to greet him. Thankfully, they were even fewer than usual since Irma was still angrily repairing some of the shelves and books, not to mention the fact that many of the students were gone, or dead, or not crazy enough to linger in the Library at such a time. And Miss Lovegood had given him the possessions he would later on pass on to the silly duo. Minerva had come too, but she mostly brought good news. Apparently, Granger had dealt satisfactorily with her and the teaching arrangements. But Minerva's expression had seemed a little bit too mischievous when she had told him about his new quarters and not to hesitate to ask "Professor Snape" for assistance. Granger had probably been too eager to please once again.

Meanwhile, the bothersome body-snatcher had arrived too late into the Great Hall. At least, she did not appear to let the attention bother her. She made her way to the staff's table and sat down. But then Potter stood up with a resolute look on his face. He was intensely staring at the man he considered the real saviour of the wizarding world. As if nothing could make him abandon his new mission, he put his hands together (_Oh no, no, no! Sit down, you dolt!_) and started to give his ex-nemesis the biggest applause of his life. At first, the lonely sound was only followed by bewildered shifting around and head movements between Harry and Snape. But the crowd quickly joined in. Severus' groan of embarrassment got lost in the thunderous clapping and cheering celebrating one of the most hated teachers at Hogwarts. _Potter is probably getting off on his influence on his peers_.

Blood was rushing to his face, but he had to stand up and cheer as well. _What is he thinking? Does he really think that would make me happy or is he trying to mock me?_ It was not as if it would change anything. Looking around at the faces of the mindless sheep, he still felt pleased by the recognition. His cynical side reminded him it would not last and did not mean anything. Granger seemed composed enough and if he did not know better he might think himself free from retaliation from his earlier display of dominance. To him, it meant even more caution was in order. So he narrowed his eyes at her.

At that very moment, she was sitting in front her plate looking pensively down at the crowd. Her slight innocent grin looked quite fetching in his face, although it made him seem too approachable. She was happy for him. In keeping with his character, she held her hands out to silence the students and the staff, and it worked. As they were quieting down, his distinctive voice could clearly be heard by everyone. "Settle down. I would really hate to have to give you all detention - with Dolores Umbridge…" Amused, the students sat back down. They waited for the Headmistress to address them.

But as she was beginning to talk, Peeves —who was cackling under the Enchanted Ceiling and throwing projectiles at the students— pulled his most subtle and cruel prank ever. A branch of lilies appeared on Hermione's plate. She glanced at Severus. He was livid, but mercifully few people had noticed and made the connexion. Harry seemed apprehensive and curious. With a lazy wave of her hand, Hermione made it combust and left nothing but ashes swiftly taken care of by the elves. Having made her point, she gestured for the Headmistress to proceed. Hermione and Severus got another round of applause as well as surprised looks when the new teaching arrangements were announced. Severus pretended he had wanted to surprise the boys, but honestly he had just forgotten to tell them. Usually, the less he revealed about himself, the better he would fare. He supposed he had to tell them about the new quarters. They were a little distracted so he did not have to go into many details. Harry was replaying the good times with Ginny in his mind; Ron was thinking about Lavender and soothing his wounded knuckles with his other hand. For once, he was mostly playing with his food, which was a sign his friends would have definitely picked up on had they not been so preoccupied by other matters.

On his part, Severus was discovering a secret of the Universe that had eluded him until then. Food tasted good, more than good, it was divine. Seriously, either Granger had phenomenal taste buds or his miserable life or Potions tasting had impaired his ability to enjoy food. _It figures…_ Had it always been so? Or had his younger self been lucky in that small way? He could not remember.

Bite after bite, he felt he was being filled with life. A chocolate-filled crêpe brought to the surface Granger's memory of the Delacour girls discussing kissing techniques over desserts, and Fleur asserting that those were the best to practice: something about the texture, the moisture, and the sweet warm filling... Granger had scoffed and tried unnoticeably. Shaking his head, he thought the story a waste of awareness and the dessert pure nirvana. He also ate a peach, and could not help softly rubbing his lips on the downy skin. _Mm, I could do this for hours…_ He bit into the tempting fruit and let the sensation of fresh juice wash over him.

"Er, Hermione?" That was Potter. Apparently, Severus had gotten too caught up in the moment and had let out a moan of pleasure which had gotten a bit of attention from his male neighbors. _Hormonal slaves…_

"What? I was simply... Ron, what happened to your hand?"

"Nothing important. Don't worry about it," he said curtly. Severus scowled and used the same spell he had used on his chin after Granger had thrown a fit. Something in Weasley's (_switching names all the time is annoying, _he reflected) behavior was not right. Come to think of it, despite his little moment before dinner, Potter looked less animated than earlier. With a mental groan, Severus cursed the troublesome youths. Yet, he decided to let it lie. Maybe things would blow over. He had enough problems on his own.

He sighed in anticipation and almost skipped back to his room_. Alone, alone, alone! Finally!_ He added a warning charm to the room's preexisting protections. He took off his clothes, especially the too tightly-wound bra that made his skin itch and put on a nightshirt. _Freedom!_ And finally, he jumped on the bed and fell into a deep slumber. That was until he woke up from his nightmare. He was back in his own body. All was right again. Except that it was not. He was still dying from Nagini's venom. As he took his last breath, he cursed the world that had put him through the illusion of a decent future.

He was really awakened that time by his own voice resonating in the room. "Miss Granger, er, Sir, Severus?"

It was with obvious reluctance that he invited her in. "Come in, and secure the door."

Taking a look around, she admired the simplicity and the coziness of the quarters. They were dominated by warm tones and exotic wood furniture. There were the main room with bookshelves, egg-shaped sofas and chairs, a large desk under a window overlooking an inner courtyard and a charming chimney that looked like a huge coal stove, a kitchenette and of course the bedroom with the adjacent bathroom.

When she peeked inside of the bathroom, he let out an aggravated, "Are you quite done invading my personal space?"

So he was in a foul mood, for a change. She had not thought her visit through. After waking up, she had needed not to be alone anymore, and who could understand her more than him? But standing in his bedroom, looking down at her hostile body, she realized it had been a delusional long shot. She tentatively tried to make him have pity on her or himself. "I had a nightmare, and wondered if you cared for a little company." _What is she, twelve? _"Minerva told me where you lived."

"So, that's Minerva now, is it?"

That mocking habit was definitely annoying. She felt like she was rebuking Harry or Ron. "It's just not worth the time to constantly alternate ways to refer to people. So, what do you think?"

She was certain he was going to send her back to her quarters but instead, he got out of bed and went to the bathroom to throw some water on his face. After telling Hermione to make herself useful by putting the kettle on the stove, he took off the nightshirt that smelled of sweat and put on a silk kimono robe Transfigured out of her frilly dressing gown. Silk really gave off the best sensations when brushing against sensitive skin.

Granger apparently appreciated his refined taste. _This is a good look, much more adult_. She had taken her robe off and was wearing a white Tank Top under an open shirt and white cotton shorts. They suited him, oddly enough, but revealed that he needed to fill-out and work out more. She had already begun working on it. As she was preparing the tea, she wondered if the next time, if there was one, he would brew her tea. Both of their kitchens offered the essentials and she wished she could show her friends her fancy quarters. It was like living in an old-fashioned boat, and sleeping in a wooden cabin. Sometimes, she could hear sea life sounds, and she had hanging wicker chairs, and a hammock in the living room. But if Harry or Ron thought Professor Snape was asking them into his room, even though they were more tolerant of him, she could not imagine them reacting well. Luna would appreciate it, though. That reminded Hermione that she was proud of Harry's initiative before dinner. His colour was a little off, though.

Severus Levitated the sofa to make it face the wide window offering them a view of the starry sky. The room was lit up by candles and pleasantly cool. He served the tea. They began discussing the pertinent parts of their time apart. Assessing she was over their little fight, he told her that he had not yet deciphered the notebook, and that he doubted she could help. She grumbled at his refusal at making it a joint venture, but talked enthusiastically about her exams and teaching opportunity. They discussed what to do in regards with Luna, and decided it was more prudent to wait until all of Voldemort's active supporters had been arrested before making their situation known. Besides, they hoped they would be back in their respective bodies soon enough not to have to mention it. Even so, it was reassuring that someone trustworthy knew, just in case. Oh, that reminded her!

She bolted up from the couch and moved in front of him. His expression was quizzical. She did not know how to begin. After "Severus", she choked. Deciding action would be more eloquent than words in this instance, she took her shirt off and presented him his forearm. Aghast, he pulled on it until she was forced to kneel between his legs. His countenance transformed into a raw expression she never knew could appear on her face. She remained motionless because she enjoyed the contact with her skin but more than that, she was curious. She wanted to scrutinise him, to figure out what he truly felt. However, she could not bring herself to invade his memories to understand his relation to the Mark. For the same reason, she respectfully averted her eyes from his face and concentrated on the object of his intense stare and the weight of his fingers on her forearm.

As her knees were starting to hurt, he began to trace the contours of the invisible Dark Mark, kneading the skin where its insides used to be, as if his touch would automatically bring back the darkness. But the skin remained immaculate, although there were pink imprints where he had applied pressure. So, he massaged the flesh to erase the traces of his mishandling. He was being incredibly gentle. At some point, his hands actually trembled. And he whispered, "How does it feel?"

She was so apprehensive of saying the wrong thing, her voice was almost inaudible, "What do you mean?"

"Where it was, what do you…?"

After thinking hard, she answered "Nothing."

"Nothing. Of course…"

Overwhelmed, she finally looked into her eyes which were inscrutable. He mumbled "nothing" to himself over and over until she cut him with an "I don't understand…"

Really, she could not comprehend his reality. The possibility that her answer he was repeating represented how he defined himself was intolerable. She thought of how much fun the invisible chain against her ankle was reminding her of, how much enjoyment she had gotten out of his body, and how much pain living with that constant reminder of his dismal choices had caused him. Something snapped in her or him, and she finally wept. She wept for him who hated to show weaknesses potentially useable against him. Her grief was messy and noisy, very unbecoming. And yet, he was mesmerized by the leaks in his face. After a while, he used her shirt to wipe the snot and spit. For the tears, he used his hands, and once on impulse, his tongue, just to reacquire the taste, and perhaps the emotion. That shocked Hermione right out of her crying fit. They considered at each other silently. Severus pulled her off the ground and helped her sitting across his lap, the side of her face against his bosom. They both found the support they needed in that unusual closeness. And before falling asleep, as though he had read her mind, he allowed her to explore his memory of how he had gotten the Mark, and what it had meant for him. Afterwards, she did not ask any question. They left unmentioned the fact that the losses required by the ritual might already have been half accomplished.

In the morning, Severus awoke earlier than Hermione. He had ended up curling up on top of her torso, her arms encircling him. He even felt something pocking the small of his back. Right, it was time to get out of the inappropriate position. He decided to go down to breakfast before returning to the Library. After some cleaning charms, he put on an amethyst-coloured tunic and black pants, with a jade stone belt. Crying that hard often led to a headache, so he left her a Potion with succinct and unnecessary instructions.

They had crossed boundaries, and he was not sure how to deal with it. Who would have thought they would cuddle, ever? _That is just magically induced intimacy_, he thought in distaste. She had better not try to use that lapse in judgement to keep him under her paws.

In a corridor near the Great Hall, he came upon Argus cleaning up the remaining rubble from the Battle. Only armed with a broom and Mrs Norris' watchful eyes, he was making a pile of dust and small stones by one of the larger pieces of scattered wreckage he could not move by himself. That image struck him as utterly pathetic. For a long time, he had used that man to feel better about himself. At least he was not as ugly, or disliked, or bitter, or lonely as him. He had to compare his life to a despised Squib to feel superior. _Talk about pathetic!_ And after being on the receiving end of selfless compassion, he was disgusted with his wretched outlook on the world.

Maybe if he talked to Argus, his sudden guilt would go away. Could he use magic to help him, or would that be insensitive? He was about to ignore his newly-vehement conscience, when it occurred to him he might as well put being in Hermione's body to good use. He approached the man cautiously. "Mister Filch, can I talk to you?"

He grunted in assent but eyed her suspiciously. "I have come to realise I haven't treated you with the respect you deserve. And I wanted to apologise." He waited for a response that did not come. The cat did purr briefly. Severus guessed it was all the proof of sincerity Argus needed. His nostrils flared and he acknowledged the apologies with a tilted head and a grimace.

"So, I was wondering if you wanted any help, with this. You know, with magic…" _Oh, blast… He is going to explode. This was a bad idea!_

A few hours later, having been dragged all around the castle by the eager Caretaker, Severus could have kicked his Conscience in a very nasty place. He was hungry, so he went to the kitchens and took advantage of his enhanced sense of taste. He should be careful, or he would give Hermione back an overweight body, although she had been suffering from malnutrition. Still if she had not hexed him for what he did in Albus' quarters, she would definitely not be as understanding if he let that happen. Maybe he would exercise. Anyway, he should keep up appearances, and go check on Potter and Weasley, if only to tell them he would be spending a lot of time in the Library because of the early exams.

Potter was alone in the Gryffindor common room, looking sombrely at the grounds. Severus asked him if he was alright and pretended his assent was satisfactory. He quickly said the speech he had prepared. His noncommittal response was all the excuse he needed to get out of there. But he turned around one last time, and the solitary figure almost begged for him to come back. _I am becoming such a softie._

"Harry, tell me what's wrong."

That was all he apparently needed. After Potter told him the whole story, leaving aside the Marauders' Map part, Severus responded in a way he thought appropriate. He still felt tingly at the thought of a Potter not getting the girl, not that he was proud of it. He was entitled to those feelings. "Look, she is being sensible. You have to understand where she is coming from. Like she said, she loves you. She'll probably come around."

"I know that!" Harry spat. "It's just that… No, forget it." He turned around briskly, refusing to let his friend coerce him into revealing more of his pitifulness.

Squinting at his aggressive tone, Severus playfully said "Come on, you know I'll never stop pestering you until I get answers."

"Yeah…" That got a little smile from him. He sighed and sat under the window, where he was joined by Severus.

"Well, I thought I was done, you know? If I gave up the girl I wanted, destroyed the Horcruxes, sacrificed myself to protect everyone, and killed Voldemort, I would get there…" Harry hit the floor with the heel of his shoe, but shut up as late risers were coming out of the dorm. They waved at the couple and stared curiously at them before exiting through the portrait. No doubt there would soon be a rumour about Potter being on the rebound with his best friend. As soon as they left, Severus turned toward Potter and fulfilled his promise to harass him for information he did not care for.

"Get where?" _Spit it out, already!_

And then there was no stopping the flow of recriminations against the world that did not revolve around him. "Wherever I was supposed to get to! I thought I would finally get to be my own man, and live a happy life. But nothing has really changed. The world is not perfect now that Voldemort is gone. I destroyed the Elder Wand." _He what?_ "I try to do right by Snape with the memories and the flower peace offering." _What? He really is a simple-minded ignoramus._ "But I am not sure if the Minister will be able to exonerate him. And he's still mad at me even though I'm not responsible for what happened before my birth. And he won't talk to me openly about the people I love but never really knew! And I know what it's like to have escaped Nagini, or being almost killed by Voldemort, or being bullied! I know how it's like to be angry at Dumbledore playing puppet master."

He seemed sincere. Could he really be reaching out to him in all honesty? At a loss, Severus tried to comfort him like Hermione would. "Er, that's Professor Snape. You should give him some time too. It can't be easy for him, you know."

"I know! I just feel I should have ended up with Ginny, and lots of children, a part of something real and normal, something that was my own. And now it's all gone. And everyone around me is making out, and celebrating the victory with…" He blushed. "And I can't. I'm sorry. I know it's weird talking with you about that … I'm just frustrated. I can't even talk to Ron. You know how he is."

Obviously, Severus was impatient to end that conversation. He blurted out "Where is Ron?" He did not intend on talking about sex with the Boy-Who-Lived. And he did not want to see him as something more than James Potter's arrogant son, or he would see him as the next worst thing: a reminder of Lily's rejection and his hand in her death. He was not supposed to be a real person. He was only a tool destined to cause him mental anguish, Voldemort's demise, and preserve Lily's spark. Unaware of Severus' inner turmoil, Harry told him Ron was having a lie-in and was not going to be around much that day. Something was definitely up with him. But Severus did not have time to coddle those two, so he tried to be as comforting as possible while inching towards the exit.

"Look Harry, I'm sorry things are not working out the way you expected them to. It's life. Perhaps you should concentrate on being rid of Voldemort, your exams, and your promising Auror career. It will help pass the time until Ginny comes back to you or whatever Fortune decides to send your way. Worst comes to worst, you'll have a lot of eager groupies to satisfy." He wiggled his eyebrows for good measure. _Oh, the humanity…_

"Don't be gross!" Harry sputtered.

But he was grinning as Severus took his leave. Before finally escaping the sticky situation, he remembered to ask him if he could contact Mrs Figg to see if she could find a companion for Mrs Norris. Maybe familiar matchmaking could be a form of atonement. Thankfully, he seemed satisfied by his excuse.

As he was lying on his bed, alone in the room, Ron concluded he really was messed up. He had dreamt of kissing Harry and "being" with him in that way after he had saved him from Merpeople and Grindylows. And now that he was awake he could only think of going to see Lavender. Apparently, the one person he could not think of being intimate with at the moment was Hermione. It was as though he was not worthy of her. And he was beginning not to care if he was not.

There were many funerals to attend the following days and he certainly did not want to think about those. Looking at the faded bruise on his knuckle, he put all of his frustration in his fists and hit his inner thighs, repeatedly, like he thought he deserved. He was a disappointment, and fuelled his anger by remembering all his failures, past and present. Somehow it helped to control his physical pain and forget the rest. The numbness in his thighs told him it was time to stop and he decided to join Harry in the common room or wherever he was. Later on, they went flying with some of the students who had not been picked up by their family yet. Ron's hurt limbs made it hard to forget the dark place he had gone to, but strangely it was easier to pretend he was normal when he had an another outlet. After lunch, he bid goodbye to his friends. Then, he used the Shrieking Shack to get to where he needed to go. That transit location did not do much for his morale. He recalled Snape's death, and him lying with Hermione.


	9. I've Got You under My Skin

**Chapter 9: I've Got You under My Skin (Eartha Kitt)**

Hermione woke up well-rested. The mixed smells on her clothes and the sofa proved it had not been a bizarre dream. It had happened. Severus Snape had held her, comforted her in his own way, and gone to sleep with her. He might have done it for himself. But it was still a positive unanticipated turn of event. That had been one of the strangest moments she had been involved in. It was reality altering because it reconciled her experience of how he acted with whom his memories told her he really was, or could be if he let himself. She had never felt so close to anyone. Even if it were all caused by the ritual, it did not make its effect seem any less genuine. _By the way, where is he?_ The _Revelio Charm _informed her she was alone.

She stifled a laugh as she imagined him all ruffled up and appalled, waking up with her. Her eyes hurt and so did her skull. That was when she saw his little present. She was about to drink it when it occurred to her that it might not be safe to do so in her condition. She decided against it despite her discomfort and pocketed the glass bottle. She used the _Summoning Charm_ on her contract and writing supplies and filled it in and signed it. She also used it on the contract Minerva had given her and left it all on his desk. It was time for her to go back to her own quarters. Over there, she did some exercises demonstrated in Dumbledore's book, quick ablutions, and worked on a communication device for Severus and her, just in case, something similar to Dumbledore's Army Galleons. She just hoped it would not bring back unpleasant memories, considering what had inspired her.

_What item should I use? _Stainless bracelets would be inconspicuous enough. She was not hungry, and could wait until lunch. She knew her task was important because, if her assumptions were correct, they would be trying to avoid each other as much as possible after what they had done. She so wanted them to work perfectly so he would not be able to criticise her. After she was done, she ate the food she had kept from the day before and took a two-hour nap to calm her headache. Upon waking up she found she had one hour before dinner. She decided to get some air, and note her thoughts on the soul exchange. She enchanted the parchment to appear empty if she were not holding it.

"-Does the ritual interfere with Potions and physical alteration spells?

-How much magic is shared between us?

-How does the exchange affect the mind and the body?

-Will we become more unstable overtime because of it, like V.?

-What kind of losses are we talking about?

-Note to self: go to the Ministry to find information on that family and especially the daughter.

-Are we stronger or weaker because of the exchange? Are we somehow protected from harm?

-Is there an expiration date on the exchange?

-When can I go look for my parents?

-To which extent can we access each other's memories and sensory experiences?"

Those were questions they more or less needed the answers for. But first, she was going to focus on her exam preparations, right after dinner that was. In the Great Hall, after thanking her for getting the paperwork back to her so soon, Minerva advised her to stop being antisocial and come eat with everyone more regularly. She also asked her to help supervise the parents' retrieval of their offspring the following day. She had a list of students who had asked to stay at Hogwarts until the summer session. Hermione's, Luna's, Ginny's and Draco's names were on it. Minerva's voice lost a little of its severity when she spoke of the funerals which would take place in the next few days. The Ministry had already begun sending brochures with the names, dates and times to help people get organised. Such a waste of good people… No, that was not exact. Bravery and sacrificing oneself for a worthy cause should never be called at waste. But it sure felt like it. Although, Death Eaters might think they fit that description. On top of all that, let's not forget the survivors and the wounded people who would have to cope with the consequences of the war.

The people bitten by transformed werewolves had the grimmest future of all. Among the students, one of them had not been able to physically endure the transformation and had agonized for hours before finally dying. Another one had heard her family speak of caging her and hiding their shameful secret, and had sent a letter to the Prophet apologizing for having allowed herself to become a freak and had vowed to kill Fenrir Greyback and kill herself before her next transformation. Minerva had not heard of her since, and it had been months since an old student of hers had sent her the letter instead of destroying it. The last one was extremely depressed, but showed an impressive resilience.

That led her to her next request. "Severus, do you think you could help Horace to brew several cauldrons of Wolfsbane Potion before the next full moon?"

Of course, Hermione would accept. But that would mean asking Severus for guidance. Avoidance would not be so easy. Well, maybe they could just put what had happened behind them. Sure, it was embarrassing and unusual but it had been nice to share a really human moment with him. After rigidly taking her leave from the staff, she quickly exited the Great Hall, and focused on the numerous tasks she had to keep track of.

Back in his quarters, Severus was no closer to deciphering the notebook. The only thing he could understand appeared for a few seconds: "No Polyjuice". Maybe it was attuned to his interests. To put that theory to the test, he would have to teach Hermione the complicated spell he had used; therefore enduring being in her presence much too soon. At least, she was a quick learner. But instead of following her around, he would just have to wait until she showed up, as she surely would. It was too bad, though, because she had been pleasantly absent from his life that day. The only problem he had encountered had been catching a glimpse of Ron's slightly swollen hands. But he decided it would be best not to get too involved. So, he pretended to buy the excuse that it came from Quidditch-playing. Potter enthusiastically told him Weasley and he were going to stay at the Burrow with most of the Weasley family from the next evening on. He casually teased his friend, saying it would give her more time to study and pass her exams with flying colours. Not that he had any doubt she would.

Severus was relieved Weasley was not all of over him but did wonder if he was disturbing the dynamic of the couple. According to her memories, it was not so. In that regard, they were awfully similar to Molly and Arthur, with all the bickering and occasional mushiness. They often fought, mostly because of Weasley's insecurities. There had been an improvement around the time of Fleur and Bill's wedding. Hermione had even caught him talking excitedly to his twin brothers while shaking a book around. As soon as they had noticed her, the book had disappeared. Ron had dismissed the subject clumsily, his ears turning an "endearing" shade of curmudgeon. She had let it go because she did not want to discourage his efforts. _Wait a moment_. Severus knew that cover. Oh, he had the title on the tip of his tongue…

Never mind that, he had other matters to consider. For example, what was he going to tell to Hermione to keep her quiet? Sure, she had ignored him all day which suited him fine. _Really…_ It was so much better that way. She had even been useful with the paperwork. He had returned the favour and had gotten an elf to take all of it to Minerva's office. The servile creature had been reluctant to answer his call. He snickered at the memories of Hermione's misguided activism. She really got passionate about the most desperate of causes. That made him the latest one. Well, he would just have to remind her that shared memories or not, he was still more experienced and powerful than her. She could not win against him. He felt good about that decision. He finally got around to really exploring the advantages of his quarters. And he waited for her to come bother him.

But, after an hour of waiting around, she was nowhere to be seen even though he had things to discuss with her… _What is she waiting for?_ Whatever, he was going to brush his teeth then off to bed. He woke up several hours later feeling restless. Maybe he should go see what was keeping her. He checked the corridor before leaving his room. He just knocked on her door. It would look bad if someone heard Hermione calling his name and trying to get inside of his private quarters, in the middle of the night. That was just what his reputation needed. Keeping quiet was better. When she did not answer, he disabled the protection spell. _Tsk-tsk, she made it too easy_.

Her quarters were quite pleasant. He was partial to the antique oil lamps and the commitment to the maritime theme. In the flickering light, he saw his long body lying on the floor among books, pieces of parchment and an inkwell that was spilling its content on the hand which was still holding a quill… Her position was all wrong and she was going to wake up with a massive back ache if she stayed like that all night. He went to shake the defenceless form, muttering under his breath at her carelessness. But immediately after opening her eyes, she grabbed his wrist and he ended up under her again, only her wand and tone were more menacing. "Who? What are you doing here?" He really should do something for this body's lack of strength, comparatively.

"Get off of me! You are getting ink everywhere."

"Sorry." She stood up and offered him her hand. But he stood up irritably on his own. "So, what are you doing here?" She was not proud to have overreacted but at least she had shown him she was not weak.

He pretended to be mad at her for attacking him, when in fact he was annoyed at not having a real excuse to be there. He could not very well tell her he had nightmare. There was no real need for him to ask for a permission slip to have access to the Restricted Section. Was it possible that his decision to come visit her stemmed from a desire for companionship? That was preposterous. Why would he choose her of all people? Anyway, he would just have to show her the notebook and teach her that spell of his invention, even if he was averse to share so much of his skills with her. To give himself more time, he cleaned up the ink.

Then, he addressed her as though it should be obvious for her why he was there at such a late hour. "In case you forgot, we have matters to discuss."

She primly sat down in one of the hanging chairs which she rotated his way. "All right, make yourself at home. What is it you wanted to talk about?"

He went to the kitchen to make some tea, and tried to focus on how he had wanted to handle their little indiscretion. When he could not, he decided avoiding the topic was the best solution. Those types of situations were so troublesome. As he settled down, he realised he only had to share what was going on with her friends and check with her which funerals he had to attend. He had received many invitations for her that day. She got solemn while going through them. On his part, he chose to see it as an opportunity to get out of the castle freely. She requested he would provide comfort to people and act appropriately. The way she made it sound, he was incapable of behaving empathically. Of course, he would play his role. Although, he felt it was not exactly what she was asking.

To change the subject, he told her about the notebook. She tried his spell, and the word "desire" appeared. They avoided each other's gaze. That notebook was a total let-down. But it turned out that contrary to what Narcissa had affirmed, Severus had a contact who could give him that kind of information. Nonetheless, he needed money to find him, and afterwards he would have to pay a much bigger price. He also needed to buy books on regenerative magic. By Medusa's eyes, they had a problem! He startled her by involuntarily making the water surge out the kettle.

"Was that necessary?" She huffed as she took off her drenched robe and pants. The skin under it was a little red. Severus had tried to cast "_Protego"_ but Hermione had stood up in front of him to protect him or her body. Shrugging, he healed the superficial burns in two flicks of the wand. "So, are you going to tell me what is wrong?" she asked while putting her dry clothes back on. They both sat back down.

"We need to solve the goblin situation."

"What goblin…" she began, only to end up imitating a fish, silently opening and closing her mouth. _He is right. How are we going to deal with that?_ He had her tell him everything that had led to Gringotts break-in, and the damages caused.

He elaborated a solid plan that she, of course, tried to ruin. Him and the two other miscreants would go to Kiaruk, the Head Goblin, and convince him it would be in everyone's best interest to issue a joint statement in the Daily Prophet in which they would reveal to the world that the goblins had granted the trio a chance to steal a pivotal weapon to overthrow Voldemort. The Dragon and other material losses were covered by insurance (the insurance agents could not complain, for it would be bad publicity). And they had used that experiment to update their security system. That way, they all would have access to their accounts again; and establish a more cordial relationship with the goblins.

Hermione protested. "But that would be lying to the public! Haven't we had enough of that during the past years? Don't people deserve the truth? What about the fight against unscrupulous journalists who will print anything that sells?"

Severus tried to reason with her with what he thought was the patience of a saint. "That's not my fight. And anyway, that is not the point. We need money, thus we need to get back into their good graces. You will not do well in any society if the bankers are against you, even if you "saved" the wizarding world. We do not have a better plan, and if we don't do anything, they will sue you or me at the moment, for more than we could ever make." She did not seem convinced, so he added "Let me put it that way: you are not doing it for yourself, or your friends. The wizarding world has been shaken to its core. People need security and normalcy. They need to believe they can count on something, that their precious family heirlooms and savings are safe from thieves. This is the foundation of an institution that you eroded."

She argued "But isn't the deceiving sordid? Do we want to win that way? Is that the world we fought for?"

Severus felt like clawing at the wicker chair. Yet, he composedly spelled it out for her. "Look, we cannot change the world in mere days, and we need a solution now. Let me also point out that we are dealing with the consequences of two wars. We have been dealt a sordid hand. This is about winning the game. And let's not forget you have already lied, deceived, and stolen before. What if your attack on the bank were a symptom of your hidden scorn for "lowly goblin creatures"? You did not even consider the consequences of your actions on their lives. Lastly, I don't need your permission or your approval. I will do it regardless. But if it will put your mind to rest, I will have you know I'm going to check parts of the plan with Bill Weasley in the morning."

"You don't need to bully me into submission! I am not comfortable with your plan, but I am not dense. Can't you just give me some time to wrap my mind around it?" His patronizing attitude made her so angry that her teacup escaped from her hand and spilled its content by her feet.

There was no talking to her when she was acting like that. He watched silently as she cleaned up all of her mess on the floor. When she grabbed a piece of parchment, writing appeared. "What is that?" She held it out for him to see. She made some good points. "What is that about your parents?"

"Can we talk about this at another time? And, please, don't look in my memories!" She sounded even more agitated.

"Fine. So, what say you?" he said in a bored tone.

She gave him a calculating look. "I think we will have to give them back the sword of Gryffindor as a peace offering. I told you what I learned about their conception of ownership. Maybe we could use the article to enlighten the people about respecting other cultures. But, I guess it would be too much to ask for them to stop their cruelty against dragons, wouldn't it?"

She revealed such a mixture of cunning and ingenuousness, it was almost humorous. "I am afraid so. On the bright side, that leaves you another cause to look forward to. That first proposition is actually not a bad idea. It is quite like you to transform pretence into a learning experience."

"Thank you?"

"Indeed…" He smirked. "Well, that should be settled soon. I will talk to Harry, Ron, and Minerva tomorrow. Do you have something to report about today?"

"So, it is Harry and Ron, now, is it?"

"To quote some Know-it-all, it just is "not worth the time to constantly alternate ways to refer to people". Anyway, do you have anything to tell me?"

She furrowed her brows. "I will need pointers on how to brew Wolfsbane "your way". And do you know how we can imitate each other's writing and signature? The charm I have found is temporary, although I still have few books to check. But it would save me time to work my N.E.W.T.s. Oh and…"

He held out placating hands. "Breathe! I will lend you the necessary books which you will have to return unscathed. Do not hesitate to ask questions. I don't want you to sully my reputation." _That's rich coming from him… _Seeing her expression, he chided her, "No need to be cheeky." He grabbed the books he had silently Summoned, and put them on the coffee table. She made a face at his showing-off. So, he smirked arrogantly. _That's right. I have mad skills, and you'd do better not to forget it._

_I could do that_, she thought. Feeling on a roll, he taught her the right spell to copy his handwriting and signature, and taught himself hers. They signed an arrangement in order to guaranty they could not abuse that licence. For a big finish, he talked about brewing Wolfsbane, and boasted about the number of different potions he was able to brew at the same time.

His smugness disappeared when she showed him the bracelets and described how she made them. That was satisfactory magic. Satisfied with his reaction, she let him examine them, and took the books to her bedside bench she used as a table. Severus checked if she was observing him. When she did not immediately come back, he lay down in the hammock to play with his new toys, adding a special feature. It was not long before the two of them were lulled to sleep by the sounds of waves and whales' voices.

This time, Hermione woke up before Severus, did some exercises, cleaned up and dressed in the dark. But she decided to limit his usual armour to its outer part, under it, she was wearing loose shorts and a simple shirt.

She stealthily took her bracelet from beside him and put it on. He looked, or she did, too adorable all cosy in the hammock. She left before he could wake up, open his mouth and ruin that image. The parents would arrive at four, so she would enjoy spending the rest of her free time studying before going to see Professor Slughorn.

Of course, he was awake. In fact, he had been awake the whole time. After all, he had been watching his own back for so long, and she had been making a lot of noises while preparing for the day. Her triumphant glee was palpable as she approached him so close without waking him up. But, he just did not want to talk to her. He had let himself be vulnerable to her by sleeping in her quarters. It was strange for him to have slept in her presence for three days. That probably was linked to the body swap. Anyway, he was going to put a stop to that bizarre behaviour. Back in his quarters, he was lucky to catch Bill before he went to work. That unexpected visit from his brother's girlfriend slightly surprised him. Still, he proved very useful, even though Severus remained as vague as possible. He also took it upon himself to set an appointment with the Head Goblin for after the funerals.

Later that day, Severus told the Headmistress of his plan. He could see she was impressed by her prized student's strategy. She mentioned the possibility of agreeing to "rent" the Sword from the goblins for several hundred years. She could not part from it as such because it was an important Hogwarts symbol. They should find an acceptable fee, considering it might be a stepping stone for shifting goblins' marketing and it would be renewable. She would also add to the article her own statement about the modernisation of Hogwarts. From then on, the Slytherins would be selected by filial piety, scheming mind, and sense of honour, not "pure" bloodlines. Hermione would appreciate that, he was sure. Minerva was adamant she was not making those decisions for the three Gryffindors. It was high time wizards began respecting all sentient creatures.

Before parting ways, Minerva asked the young woman how she was doing with her N.E.W.T.s preparations. Would she be ready by the end of the month? Severus replied by the affirmative, although Hermione would probably not say the same. After all, she had spent quite some time on those communication devices. There was the inventive spirit that was lacking from her Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts work, and from the rest of her homework as well he would wager. That was a pity, really.

Leaving that aside, he left Minerva to inform the duo of his brilliant plan. He took them into an empty classroom and added charms against eavesdropping. Despite the fact that it took some of the shine out of their exploit, they did not care at all. As usual, Hermione was bailing them out of a sticky situation. They were thankful that had not changed. Ron suggested only Harry and Hermione would go to be more effective. He was not needed to argue with the goblins, and Harry's high status might show the goblins they were serious. He would be a hindrance. Besides, he had other things to do. His eyes were a little bloodshot from the lack of sleep. Severus tried to cheer him up by praising his strategic mind_. Oh, please…_ Still, he agreed. The young man was too hot-blooded and might be ruin the negotiations. Clearly, Severus was not good at that encouraging people thing, because the young man's smile was weak.

Harry was happy to leave the decisions to Hermione, and he would come along. He took the opportunity to tell her that Mrs Figg would be making a visit to Filch during the summer. It turned out he was well-known in the felinophilia circles. He proudly explained the meaning of that term to his friends, although that sounded fairly obvious to Severus. Anyway, Filch was called Sir Norris in those circles. In a profile Mrs Figg had sent, he was rumoured to be able to communicate with cats better than most Squibs and helped to finance and manage a feline sanctuary and a wildcat conservation program. In the end, people really could surprise you, and not only in a terrible way. They went to the Three Broomsticks, where Ron became livelier. Apparently, Rosmerta was being more responsive to his poor flirting, and like many others he appreciated the attentions of the experienced and seductive woman.

On one hand, he seemed more positive, on the other hand there was no point in fuelling his post-battle sex drive when he could not provide. _Absolutely no way._ And the Weasleys valued faithfulness. So did Hermione, and it would be absurd to ask Severus if he believed in fidelity. Therefore, he felt particularly entitled to thump the impudent on the back of the head when his ogling got too obvious, to less effect than he had intended. The guilty party looked sheepish but happy. Harry laughed at their little domestic skit. Was that the type of relationship people were pinning for: all that fighting and predictability? _Well, not for me, thank you very much…_

So, there he was, Severus Snape, hanging out with "friends" at the Three Broomsticks after an overtaxing year. That was a first. The friendship was fake, but it had been something he had wanted to be a part of before he decided people were too stupid to deserve to be in his presence since they did not value it. It was not as enjoyable as it looked. For instance, the conversation was a bore. The experience probably had been magnified by its unavailability. Maybe there had been other things he had put on a pedestal as well. He tried to shake those nonsensical thoughts out of his mind. He was even ready to address Ron's wounded hands, but those were not visible anymore. He could have used _Finite Incantatem_ on his meagre glamour, but then it would break their little moment. And when was he going to experience that again?

They went on discussing insignificant matters like the possibility of Argus and Arabella Figg hitting it off, or who was the best Quidditch player and how to become one. To their surprise, Severus had some interesting insights. He pretended they came from Viktor Krum, although it made Weasley cough up his Butterbeer and half-heartedly grumble. They also asked their friend why she had chosen the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. It turned out getting a lower grade than Potter had been a sore spot for Hermione, so he used that to explain how she had supposedly worked hard so she would beat him academically. And she thought that would be more interesting and challenging that way. Yes, he would end up his career as a teacher with style, one way or another.

That reminded him that Hermione and he would have to discuss lesson plans after she was done with her exams, if not sooner. Severus spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in the Library, where he encountered Hermione but made a point not to act differently to other eyes. They used the bracelets to set up a quick meeting after dinner. There would be no sleepover. Severus would make sure of it. Three-quarters of the remaining fighters were gone by that evening. Nothing out of the ordinary happened that night.

During the following days, Severus grew busy with funeral attending and Hermione with her revisions. They both wished they could trade places. Even though funerals were dreadful affairs by nature, Hermione believed she needed to be there for her friends, and to get some closure herself. But wasn't that the first step to make the dead a distant memory? She was being ridiculous. They would be forgotten no matter what she did. And if she held on to them with all her heart, she would end up like Severus was, consumed by memories. Or was it: like he used to be?

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There you go. I hope you enjoyed it.

Zarathustra46, you rock! ;)

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violet1994, your review touched me where it counts, the ego. Thanks, that was very motivating.

Au revoir!


	10. He Needs Me

**Chapter 10: He Needs Me (Nina Simone)**

After several days without visiting Severus or being visited by him, Hermione felt depressed. She was lonely without her friends. She could not spend too much time with Luna, a little out of fear that people would imagine something sordid, but more so because she had to concentrate on her studies. Maybe she was antisocial…

Severus had been to too many funerals to count. He did not feel sad, but numb and as though it he had been force-fed dust. The worst had been Fred's funeral. According to Potter, the remaining twin had been utterly depressed, which was to be expected. But he had taken up the habit of staring at himself in reflective surfaces, seemingly replaying discussions with his missing half. So, his younger brother had decided to move in with him after the N.E.W.T.s, and Potter was thinking about doing the same. The flat above the shop was so huge than Hermione could join them too if she wanted. That way, they would never have to be apart. _For pity's sake!_ _They had just spent months cooped up in a tent together!_

When Ron sat between Severus and Harry, he winced. Yet, it was hardly noticeable in his current blotchy and squinted face. The rest of the group did not look any better. The Weasley women were holding and rocking each other, and every time the Ministry official (who had transmitted the Minister's regrets for not being able to be there for them) paused to breathe, their whimpers could be overheard. Andromeda showed her support by placing her hands on Molly's shoulder. Arthur had his arms around George's limp form on one side and Percy's on the other one. The latter was incessantly tapping his foot on the floor. The rhythm seemed to bring him comfort. Fleur was consoling Bill and Charlie was searching for the meaning of life in Ted Lupin's sleeping face while cradling him. Under the noises made by the finest Wizarding Wheezes fireworks, Severus cast a diagnostic spell on his distressed neighbour. His knuckles, chunks of his thighs and stomach lit up in a discreet blue light.

As soon as he could, he took Ron aside. The funeral parlour open to the magical community nearest the Burrow had little alcoves where people could sit and talk out of sight, under seemingly sympathetic winged statues. This was going to be unpleasant. He pushed Ron a little hard on the cushioned bench. Either he was getting his strength back, or Ron was getting weak, or Hermione had some muscles after all.

His eyes were shifty and his voice, lifeless. "Look Hermione, I am not in the mood for… That…"

"Never mind that, what's happening to you? How did you get beaten?" Somehow, he knew the answer, but he needed to him to admit it. He held him against the wall to force him to deal with the problem but he was not resisting much.

"How do you… It's nothing. I-I just got into a fight."

_With whom? The garden gnomes?_ "Don't lie to me," Severus warned him.

"I told you it's nothing. And it's none of your business. I've got it under control anyway." He pushed him away and stood up.

"Oh, really?" In a matter of seconds, Ron was in his underwear, the full extent of his condition for Severus to see. Before he could protest, Severus silenced him with an imperious tirade. "Listen to me, Ronald Weasley. I know what you are doing and that's not being in control. You are hurting yourself and the people who love you. What do you think they'd say if they knew what you are doing? How is it honouring your brother's sacrifice? Make no mistake, in the long run you'll end up crippling and killing yourself. If you want to feel alive and in control, be there for George and the people who need you." He did not hide his contempt for the young man who was trying to find the easy way out.

Ron finally looked him in the eyes. "How did you know?"

"I'm clairvoyant." Maybe it was too early for jesting. Still Severus got a lopsided smile out of his Sybill Trelawney imitation. He healed the bruises and got Ron's clothes back on him. "What if I told you I understand what you're going through? Oh, you can scoff, but I do. You're not the only one to have been troubled by everything that has happened. And I have known people like you who hurt themselves to feel alive. Some of them didn't stop before been institutionalized, or worse. You have a shot at escaping their fate, because I know you don't want to kill yourself, and that you really want to live. Now, tell me what you want to do." Severus invited him to join him on the bench, which he did. But, he refused to see the truth.

"You're exaggerating. Those are nothing. They heal easily. And I'm not going to die from them."

Opting for a more drastic method, Severus opened his mourning robe and lifted up his blouse revealing his stomach and his arms. Bruises and bleeding wounds appeared. Looking at the realistic rendering of blood tainting the cushions from his wrists, red liquid dripped from his mouth as he asked "Would you feel the same way if I did it? Would you not try to stop me?"

Ron finally gave over. He imagined all of his loved ones in that state. It was unbearable. "Stop that! Please. Blimey, Hermione… I want to stop. I know it's not right. I just don't know what else to do to stop feeling that way." He really was at the end of his rope. But it helped to see Hermione concerned for his welfare. At the same time, he could not help feeling low for needing to be saved by his girlfriend. Why was he the only one to go out of his mind? Maybe Hermione was coping better because she was concentrating on studying, while Harry was preparing his future as an Auror. He had gotten Ron to commit for the Apparition test by the end of June, and he had spoken to Aurors stationed at Hogwarts about an internship during his free time this summer. And Ron had planned on tagging along. But he could not just follow Harry everywhere. That would do nothing for his self-esteem. Hermione was right, he should be a rock for his family and he would try to really help Lavender. All that should keep him from morbidly obsessing over his lack of self-worth.

As if he could read his mind, Severus used Hermione's memories and discussions he overheard in order to convey to him he had a lot of potential. Among other things, he talked of how he had saved Hermione from the troll and helped destroying several Horcruxes. He would never admit it out loud, but he could empathize with the young man's need to be recognised. Turning his appearance back to normal, he straightened the chignon on the top his head. With this load off his shoulders, Ron was deliberating on his options. Usually, Severus shied away from touching people he did not admire in some way, as if mediocrity could taint him. He made an exception, influenced by Hermione's memories. So, he reluctantly took Ron's hands in his own to get him back to his family. It was fortunate she was a bossy person. Kid gloves would not do in that case.

"Look, I am going to take you to Harry, and you'll have to admit what you did. He will be in charge of keeping an eye on you until you are back in Hogwarts. Rest assured that I'll know it if you have slipped, and I'll make you regret it. Not only will I hex you, but I'll inform your family of what you've been doing."

"You wouldn't!"

"You don't want to find out. You'll thank me later."

"I doubt it," he mumbled as she pushed him towards Potter who was relieved to finally see them. "I don't know how to begin. Please, don't make me do this."

"You have to. I'll be right over there. Just be honest." With a squeeze on his shoulder, he left him with a confused-looking Harry. After the burial, they all went back to the Burrow. The two young men could be seen quietly conversing, sitting arm in arm in the garden. As expected, Potter was obviously alarmed but supportive. _Good!_ It was his problem, now. Severus took him aside to check if he had the essential facts. He instructed him about ways to unobtrusively check on Ron's physical state, although he knew he would tell Ron about it. Perhaps Ron needed that sign of their bound of trust. _I swear, sometimes they seem more of a couple than Hermione and Ron ever did_.

By the end of that day, Severus was emotionally exhausted. It was hard work to sustain deep relationships. He felt justified in keeping so few of them. He had not been in close contact with Hermione for several days. And it was as though he was trying to stand on the thin surface of a frozen pond. He needed to find a more stable ground. So he ended up breaking into Hermione's room and falling asleep into the hammock again. The sound of the wind, the rain, and the waves that appeared to come from outside pacified him.

He was slightly disoriented when he woke up to a cool compress being applied on his forehead and eyes.

"You were burning up. You should go see Madam Pomfrey. I went today, and your body is in good shape. The neck wound does not even itch anymore," were her only words before going back to practice her spell work. He put away the compress. It was relaxing to watch her concentrate on perfecting her technique. From time to time, he would spontaneously guide her for a better effect. She really was great at absorbing knowledge. She did not ask him why he was there. _Those past couple of days must have been hard on him._

He enquired why she did not try different hand movements, intonations, wordings, and degrees of intention. Taken aback by the sudden interest, she supplied "But those are supposed to have been tested and approved by many experienced wizards and witches, why would I not expect them to work optimally?"

"But why would you? What do you know of the people you mentioned? How do you know their good intents were not impaired by a lack of time or funds and so on? How can you so completely trust them? What makes you sure your magic works the same way? And how will you know what works better until you try?" He was talking to her like an adult deserving of his time. That was a welcome change and she responded to it.

"You are right, but are you seriously advocating that I experiment when I have so little time?"

"The way you interpret my questions is up to you."

She pondered his words. "How can I avoid hazards while I experiment?"

He told her about a temporary protective circle she could draw on the floor. It was not foolproof so she might have to think before acting. But there was little bite in his voice. Thrilled with that new trick, she tried it out right away. He actually manifested some approval when she suggested possible improvements to the circle. Then, she asked about safeguards for Potions experiments. That led to a captivating two-hour lecture that just grazed the tip of the iceberg. But just when he was about to reveal something seminal, he stopped because he knew how to keep the audience on their toes, but also because it was getting late and he still had to tell her about the funerals, and most of all about Ron. She stretched from her uncomfortable sitting position, her joints protesting. Having heard her little groan, he gestured for her to come closer and turn around. He sat up in his hammock and stroked the back of his neck where he knew the knots laid, and continued with the shoulders. As if his mind and hands where separated (once more), he ignored what he was doing and told her the important happenings of the past few days. When he arrived to Ron's predicament, she ended the massage, and moved behind him to undo the chignon that by then should be irritating her scalp. She Summoned a simple brush and detangled the waves to occupy her hands and keep herself from interrupting.

On the plus side, Bill had gotten them an appointment. Hermione stopped playing with her hair, and gave him the first draft of the statement they would make. He mocked her zeal, "I thought you did not have time to spare."

She playfully pulled his hair

"Humph! If that's the way you want to act, I believe it is time for me to prepare some of your N.E.W.T.s questions for the practical examinations. Do you have anything to report?"

"No. Yes, only that I will start working with Horace right after the N.E.W.T.s."

"We will have to go through the process together after your last exam. And I soon will give you my notes on the teachers' handbook, and your lesson plan. Good night."

"Wait!" She seized him by the shoulders and kneeled to stoop to his level. In that position, she looked up to him. Burrowing his nose in her hair, she inhaled deeply the familiar sent, and encircled his petite frame. "Thank you so much for helping Ron. I don't know what I would have done."

"I did what was best for me. You probably would have hit him so he would not have had to do it himself." He did not push her away, but didn't hug her back either.

She let him go. "Do you think he will stop?"

"That's up to him. My intuition is that he needed to feel relevant. If you had been yourself, I believe intimate relations would have done the trick for a while, but I decided to spare myself the trauma. Even I am not ready to go that far yet." He watched her stand up, step back, and stare at her feet.

She reservedly informed him, "Me neither."

"That is a relief, I must say."

"Indeed." On those smirks, they parted for the night.

The day after, Severus went to see Poppy. He took the opportunity to enquire about other students' welfare. Draco apparently came there often to lend a helping hand and ask questions on Healing. There were still a few students recovering from the battle. But as he walked to the Library, the only people he met and decided to ignore were Ministry officials, members of the Board of Governors, people from the staff, and people hired to repair the Castle materially and magically. He also saw Minerva giving some of them instructions.

A week later, according to a letter from Harry, Ron was doing much better. He was not hurting himself anymore, but sometimes disappeared for a few hours, to "clear his head". Still, he was more present for his family, helping his mother, and asking George questions about his business. He even had a talk with Fleur about learning about the novelty and joke market in France, although it was apparently an endeavour to keep secret.

What Harry did not say, was that Ron had begun to shy away from physical contacts with him. He tried not to take it personally, but he was seriously tenderness deprived. Hopefully, Hermione would shower him with hugs, the next time they would meet. He imagined her glowing from her brilliant results at her N.E.W.T.s and her eyes shining with the prospect of teaching them Defence Against the Dark Arts. On top of that prospect, he was corresponding a lot with Ginny. And the more he learned about her, the more he liked her. Trying to read between the lines, he assumed she still loved him, but was afraid she was only attracted to his hero side, ever since she was a child. She just did not want to be groupie for all her life. She wanted to build something of her own. She would be her own heroine. He could not fault her for being cautious on that front, because if there was something he did not want, it was having to live up to his legend in private as well.

Did entertaining the possibility mentioned by Hermione make him a hypocrite? When he went to Diagon Alley without his Invisibility Cloak followed by Aurors, many witches and wizards came up to him to thank him, asked for support for their causes, or invited him for drinks and more. He could not really discuss that temptation with Ron, but he knew that the attention was getting to him as well.

* * *

On the day of their appointment with Kiaruk, Harry met with Hermione. He was so happy to see her that he initiated a hug that Hermione returned almost reservedly. She showed him "their statement" and he agreed that she should handle the negotiations. Most goblins gave them the stink eye, but the higher ups in the hierarchy seemed only cautiously curious. In the imposing office of the shrewd-looking Head Goblin, they had to abandon their wands for a while, as a gesture of good faith. At first, Kiaruk concentrated on Harry, because he had the most standing in the wizarding community, but soon noticed that Hermione was calling the shots.

The negotiations lasted several hours, but a joint testimony was finally sent to the Prophet. Along with that reassurance of the impenetrability of Gringotts, Kiaruk had also sent an edifying article concerning the payment of the Sword of Gryffindor for the next three hundred years by the new School administration. Furthermore, the whole trio had to volunteer to work for the goblins to symbolically help pay for a new magical guardian. They also promised photos of themselves as little helpers after they had begun their service.

The real Hermione had convinced Severus to argue against dragon mistreatment. So, he proposed to the goblins to discuss with Charlie, Hagrid and other animal experts to find a powerful creature that would be more convenient for underground protection. A blind and reluctant dragon was counterproductive. Kiaruk disapproved of her impudent interfering but was a highly intelligent manager, so he took her advice under consideration.

It was decided that the three of them would be assisting wizard and witch employees, and at first deal with annoying and unimportant tasks. They would give up twelve hours of their weekends for those tasks in July and August. Moreover, Harry and Ron would work five days a week in June, and Hermione, only on the weekends because of her other commitments. Still working towards better public relations, they would have to write an article on their experiences to ameliorate wizards-goblins interactions. If Severus was not back in his body by then, he sure as hell would not be doing all the work for those two fools. If his expression was any indication, Harry was thinking the same thing as him: "I will try and get Hermione to "help" with it."

As an adult witch, Hermione wanted to use that opportunity to open her own account at Gringotts. It turned out the Potters' standing allowed their last heir to sponsor her and Ron for empty vaults on the same level as his own, for a very limited fee. He bought one for Ron, and decided to give it to him as a Birthday present_. Just get married already…_

Looking a little put-out by that "privilege", Severus thanked him and let one of the goblins exchange Hermione's Muggle money for wizard currency and took a small portion for her. Harry insisted to transfer to her vault what he thought he owed her for being his sole financial support during the Destroying the Horcruxes Campaign. Severus did not protest too much, what was the point? It was his money, Potter money. Why should he care? Taking their goblin guide aside, he gave him the necessary identification material and papers to get money out of his own vault, the Prince vault that he had used to increase his standing among the Death Eaters. When they arrived at that vault, he had to come up with an excuse for his companion who was determined to know what was going on between Severus Snape and his friend.

_Well, you see, Severus and I have fallen passionately in love, and we are planning to elope, hence the need for money. But it's been swell knowing you, pal! See you. _For a second, Severus entertained the notion to really tell him that, but shocking him was not worth the trouble.

He lightly fibbed, "Nothing strange is going on. He was busy, the Headmistress mentioned our trip, and he filled out the paperwork which he gave to me after many, many, threats on what would happen was I ever to try to steal from him."

His expression of aggravation seemed to convince the dark-haired nagger more than anything else. After they left Gringotts, Harry looked like he was wrestling with a decision. Per his request, they went to Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour and cast privacy charms around their table.

"Hermione, I have been meaning to ask you something, about relationships."

_Oh no. Please make it so he is not going to ask me out... I don't want to deal with this crap! Wait, I get to reject him, and make him feel miserable. It certainly has potential. Take that, Potters! _And yet, probably because of Hermione, it did not sound as entertaining as one would hope._ Bummer… This ice-cream is delicious. Wait, what did he say?_

"I'm sorry, Harry, I am not sure I heard you right."

Looking more uncomfortable still, he repeated "As I said, you've always been the one to turn to when in doubt, especially about relationships. This is embarrassing. But there is no one else I can turn to."

Severus motioned for him to continue, but he felt ickier by the minute. It took Harry more than ten of them to basically ask his friend if she thought he could sleep around, since he was technically single, without blowing his chances with Ginny whom he very much cared for.

Severus did not know if he should cry or laugh… _This is surreal._ He managed to excuse himself and go the loo while Harry ordered an alcoholic drink because it seemed appropriate. The taste was appalling.

Feeling acutely the transgression that was entering the ladies' room, he used his bracelet. When in doubt, ask what Hermione would do.

* * *

Forty years later, Mary Hopper, a Hufflepuff orphaned during the war would be found at her son's wedding swearing to a captive audience that she had once witnessed an outlandish sight in the Hogwarts library. Feeling homesick, she had been searching for a book on Muggle fairy tales, when she heard the sounds of laughter quickly muffled, and banging. Still not over fearing attacks, and already knowing that mirth did not equate benevolence, she bravely forced herself to stop trembling and made her hand mirror float to the side of the shelves nearest to the source of the disturbance.

Focusing on the reflection, she saw the infamous Severus Snape, a hand against his mouth, and the other hitting the table in exuberant hilarity. Once he had stopped and wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, he had looked at his forearm and had started it all over again. It was a wonder Madam Pince had not scolded him yet. But she was nowhere to be seen. After that second round, he had calmed down, and pointed his wand at his forearm. At the time, she had been very scared and had exited the Library without a book but with a new mystery as distraction.

Her audience pressing her for its resolution, she shared her old theory, since they knew enough about his trial to draw their own conclusions. At the time, she believed Harry Potter and thought he had come undone and was laughing at You-Know-Who after staring at the Dark Mark and realising he was really dead. He probably was trying to erase the Mark. Anyway, that was what she thought at the time. Sometimes people had intense reactions when faced with life-changing events. In fact, at her own parents' funeral she had had to quell the impulse to laugh when she remembered one of her mother's ridiculous jokes. And on that perfect transition, she made the crowd laugh with one of those jokes, and blessed the union. Rolling their eyes at what was to them a crazy story among many others, the happy couple finally escaped their guests for a more serious affair.

* * *

After being urged by Severus to hurry up because he did not want to use "female problems" (she almost burst at that) as an excuse, she gave the matter serious thought.

Severus came back to Harry and delivered his speech with little feeling.

"First of all, I am proud you came to me, and I'll do my best to honour your confidence."

He could not help letting out a sigh, but Harry hardly noticed his lack of enthusiasm. Indeed, he appeared very intent on deciphering the contents of his half-full drink, and was blushing furiously.

"Ahem, I am afraid I can't tell you what to do." Harry looked disheartened. "What I mean is that ultimately, the choice is yours. I can only give you my views on the matter. Contrary to popular opinion, I believe men and women can have good sex without love. But it is better if there is a certain amount of trust and respect involved, if only to deal with the aftermath of the act pleasantly." _Why am I blushing?_ _Did I just throw up in my mouth a little?_ "That being said, it all depends on your own values, Harry. Is it important for you for your first time to be with your possible future partner? Would you regret not taking advantage of your current good standing, if you do not end up with Ginny? And what about if you do?"

After pretending to drop his napkin, he added final advices hot from the bracelet. "Do you want to experience sex without strings attached? Are you prepared to make it discreet and respectful for all parties involved? And erm…" He pretended to drop his spoon. Thank Merlin the uneasiness caused by the topic warranted some degree of clumsiness. "Would you care about getting a reputation? I mean that type of reputation. And do you know contraceptive charms, potions, and Muggle contraceptives?"

That definitely made his brains hurt. After painfully thinking for a while, he hesitantly voiced a decision. "I am going to explore what the world has to offer." He looked expectantly at his friend, for validation from his living moral compass who remained quiet.

_What is he waiting for? For crying out loud, does he want me to hold his hand through the whole process? In what way is that man a hero?_

The noises from the people around grew louder as the uneasiness and silence settled on their table, so much so that they led Harry to escape to the loo to recollect himself. Severus informed Hermione of Harry's decision, lest she would pester him for it. She told him to insist he be respectful, discreet, and truthful to Ginny, should she ever ask, and safe during the act. He did as he was told, to the relief of the young man, and added that he would rather not speak about it again unless something terrible happened. Harry assented vigorously.

But the indignity continued when Harry asked Severus to help him find books and protections. He claimed the journalists would have a field day if they found out about it. _As if a lady's reputation isn't fragile enough_. Harry put on his Invisibility Cloak and Severus hid under a hood and sunglasses. They quickly purchased the necessary items, including "Safe Passion: A Comprehensive Guide for Inexperienced Lovers". Both reluctant to hug afterwards, they awkwardly smiled at each other and said goodbye before Apparating away. When Ron asked what had taken so long, and if Hermione had asked about him, Harry tried to come up with a plausible and satisfying answer. Seeing as Ron's mood deteriorated during his explanation, he might have utterly failed.

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Zarathustra46, bluefirefly5, and violet1994, you are the wind beneath my webbed wings.

P.S.: I have recently seen my first wild dolphins. They were just hanging out, being dolphins, and terrorising fish. Yet, it was enchanting. Go figure.

A hundred points for Mother Nature!

さようなら。


	11. I've Grown Accustomed to Your Face

**Chapter 11: I've Grown Accustomed to Your Face (Annie Ross)**

It would have disturbed Harry and Severus greatly had they learnt they both ended up showering simultaneously while reflecting on their discussion. Severus was concerned by what Lily would have thought of the advice he had just given to her son. It had seemed sensible enough, especially the part about contraception. He did not want to hear about the birth of the new Potter generation. It exasperated him that when those thoughts entered his mind, Hermione's body him made him sense her pleasure at imagining her friend's new family, wonder at the romanticism and the weirdness (_How is it weird?_) of his own obsession towards Lily Potter, and so on. _Get out of my head! _He did not want a broader point of view. His own was amply sufficient.

Someone knocked on his door. It would better not be her or he would let her have it.

"Wait a minute!" he shouted.

He quickly put on a burgundy dress and a robe, not bothering with underwear. He would soon regret it because it made it more acutely aware of his femininity.

"Oh, it's you. What are you doing here?"

"You sound relieved and annoyed at the same time," Luna replied, unbothered by his discourtesy. "May I come in? I need to talk to Hermione."

He wanted to tell her to come back later. But he heard voices from down the corridor, and thought she might attract unnecessary attention, he let her in and ordered her around. "Sit down and don't make a nuisance of yourself."

She just stood in his living room, staring at him pensively as he unnoticeably sent a bracelet message.

"What?" he barked, when could not take her scrutiny anymore.

"I'm sorry you are in a bad mood. If you want you can tell me about your problem. I've been told I am a good listener." He sneered. "No? Suit yourself. One of the reasons I'm here is to give Hermione her book back. You should read it. I think you might find the Duke interesting."

"Oh, is that fact?"

But apparently, she did not understand sarcasm. She glided to the desk where he pretended to work. "I understand, you know." She set the book by his elbow. _Wait, I have not spoken aloud, or have I? No, and she can't be an accomplished Legilimens._

She just chuckled at his expression. "For instance, it's clear to me that you are frustrated."

"How perceptive of you…" He made the word "perceptive" last longer than necessary, almost purring the "per" part._ I miss my voice._ "What gave me away: my tone, my eyes, or my body language?"

"Your words would be enough of a clue if we were talking about the same thing."

Becoming increasingly suspicious of her motives, he handled his wand covertly under the guise of examining the book. "And pray tell: what are you talking about?"

"Of course, you are frustrated with your general situation. But more than that, I think that you are sexually frustrated." Severus could not have looked more revolted if he had swallowed a lemon-drop flavoured jelly bean in the Astronomy Tower. "You know, women too "tickle the Muses", as they say. Very early on, my mother told me it was not reprehensible, and I'm sure Hermione would understand. She probably will do or has done it at some point. If it were me, I would probably try it out of sheer curiosity. Oh, I know, I could use Polyjuice Potion! Let's see, whose hair could I get?" The taste of lemon in his mouth was becoming more astringent with every word forced into his ears. "Hmm, but you probably do not want to hear about that, do you?" _You've got that right! And I am already forgetting the horrendous nonsense you just spouted. "_Why can't you see what happened as it truly is: a blessing. Wouldn't you be happier if you accepted the situation, and tried to accentuate the positive?"

Finally sensing the growing tension in the room, she decided that was probably all the truth he could handle for one day. And she was not even aware of Harry's bizarre request. "I can see you are too set in your ways right now. I can empathize with that, of course. Let me just tell you for future reference, that everything will work out fine in the end." If the House point and detention system had not been suspended by Minerva until the next term, he would have had such a field. He was confident he could force a more regular behaviour onto that harebrain.

Saying very little and being poised had always done wonders for his mystique. So, he used that trademark response. He caught himself wishing Hermione were there, or that nobody else were there, or that he were dead. She was looking at him as if he were a fish out of water.

Washing his hands of the whole situation, he took the high road and retired to the bedroom in a dignified silence, after obnoxiously warding his desk against her perusing. He had the distinct feeling he was missing something. To keep his mind off her humming he could hear from the open door, he began to read the play. In pure spite towards the person who had focused his attention on his female parts and carnal needs, he neglected to pass on the message that Hermione would not arrive before an hour and a half. _Serves her right. Maybe she'll get bored and go away._ But on that fated day, Luna discovered the joys of a magical egg-shaped seat. Hermione could have come hours later, and she would have found her playing, floating and twirling in it. Mercifully, she had arrived as planned and brought tea, scones and other tiny patisseries.

Severus had finished the play which he believed had nothing to do with him. But that did not stop him from pondering the Duke's words.

"Ay, true,-I envy him.

Look you, when life is brimful of success

-Though the past hold no action foul-one feels

A thousand self-disgusts, of which the sum

Is not remorse, but a dim, vague unrest;

And, as one mounts the steps of worldly fame,

The Duke's furred mantles trail within their folds

A sound of dead illusions, vain regrets,

A rustle-scarce a whisper-like as when,

Mounting the terrace steps, by your mourning robe

Sweeps in its train the dying autumn leaves."*

As soon as Hermione had arrived, he had been listening in on their conversation, after sullenly refusing to join them. Hermione tried really hard not to laugh in his face, when she remembered his messages. Luna sent a tray of delicacies to his room. He ate and drank and spied, in the wonderful safety of petty-mindedness.

The Headmistress and the Minister were preparing to invoke an ancient ritual to purify the Voldemort generation. They wanted to prepare an era void of Dark Lords and Ladies. According to Firenze, the night of the thirty-first of July would prove adequate, providing they could get enough unicorns to answer their calls. That way, they would benefit from the public's attention on the Remembrance Ceremony. Aside from dealing with the safety issues (with Voldemort's supporters still on the loose) and all the tedious practical arrangements, the simplistic way of looking at it would be a gathering of many unicorns dipping their active horns in the Hogwarts Lake.

Any human member of the magical community affected by the war(s), Squibs included, could come and immerse themselves in the cleansing water. The experience would affect them in many ways, but the main effect was to help people being whole again, to re-establish some sort of harmony within people broken by what they had done, or what had been done to them, and help them purge themselves of poisonous beliefs. But they would need to keep an open mind, and being willing to face their truths, and deal with them. The School and the Ministry would deal with spreading the necessary information, and making the sleeping and transportation arrangements. For instance, Professor Hooch would be giving collective swimming lessons.

This was a huge event. It was the beginning of building bridges of tolerance and understanding between species. Wizards and witches had to become aware of their dependency on the large magical realm, as well as their responsibility towards other living beings.

Hermione was galvanised by that project. As the potential first graduate of Hogwarts of that year, a war heroine, and a friend of Harry Potter, she had been invited by the Ministry to give a speech during the Ceremony. She accepted under the condition that it would not be censored. To her surprise, the Minister himself had guaranteed her that freedom. It was a testament to the wind of change blowing through the Ministry, on top of his personal trust in his fellow members of the Order of the Phoenix. It was the perfect time to make an impact on the wizarding community.

Severus forwarded her letters to her, having agreed not to read them unless it was necessary, and she did the same for him. They had decided to inform each other on a need to know basis. Consequently, she was still trying to find the right way to convince him to deliver the speech she had perfected through many rewrites. Her confidence in its importance was so strong, she briefly considered blackmail, but knew that it was definitely the wrong way to go. So, she left that detail unmentioned, and Luna went on to expose her role as Virgin Liaison with the unicorns. That was why she was still there, even though she did not care that her house was in ruins.

The Headmistress would send her to accompany Hagrid if he came across a herd that was difficult to approach. In the end, the ritual would benefit the whole world. Its purifying properties would spread from the Lake through evaporation, rain, underground rivers, telluric currents, travelling beings and so on. After the ritual was over, its effects would take more time and work more imperceptibly based on the individual. They were difficult to predict, but it might even help non-magical beings. The main incentive for the unicorns, if they were ever to consider their involvement in such a mercantile manner, was that made the world more unicorn-friendly. But they did not need those types of reasons. They were guided by a sense of rightness, and only needed proof of the ritual facilitators' goodwill.

_So, that's why I've not seen Hagrid in a while_. Hermione felt guilty over not noticing his absence earlier, but at least, he was safe. _Still, it's a relief he has not asked Severus to take care of his half-brother._ _Will Professor Grubbly-Plank replace him? Probably. What does that woman do when she isn't substituting_?

Between dealing with the aftermath of the war, her double live, her exams, teaching, researching the ritual, searching for her parents, deciding what to do with the rest of her live, preparing Severus' trial and after having volunteered to assist him with his goblin service, she did not know how much more she could handle before ending up in St Mungo's. She had been envious of that learning opportunity he had gotten instead of her, as well as time with her friends, but in a short bracelet message, he had hinted he would tell her all about it if she compiled her thoughts in article destined to educate the public, so she would not complain. Still, she had a nagging suspicion he was being too accommodating. Luna went on to talk about magical and doubtlessly fictional creatures. Hence, Hermione stressed upon her the necessity for her to go back to her studying. She did not forget to hug her in congratulations for her role in the unicorns gathering. Had she had more time, she would have loved to hear about it. She grinned at Luna's comment on how she was good to Severus' body in terms of pleasurable contacts with another person. A rustling sound came from behind and a Severus with bushy hair sticking up in odd angles was looking at them in profound contempt.

With an unwavering smile, Luna waved them goodbye, but not before reassuring Hermione that he was "just jealous". Shaking her head at her friend's whimsicality, she turned to her ex-teacher who was clearly devising tortures to inflict upon bothersome people. At first, she wanted to ask him to what was crawling up his rear. But after discarding the possibility that it was that time of the month (according to her calculations, it would happen around his first week of classes) since it rarely affected her mood, she tried to use her inside knowledge to show him some kindness. But Severus wanted out. The world was out to get him and he was not going to stand for it, refusing to discuss his issues, or anything really, he picked a fight with the source of his predicament. In the back his mind (and her head), he knew it was wrong, but that did not stop him. If she did not like it, she could just leave him in peace.

At the culminating point of a screaming match in which they went as far as to immaturely insult each other's hair and teeth, Hermione stormed out to practice Defence Against the Dark Arts with a renewed ardour. But after a while, she was considerably calmed by the realisation that hexing a mannequin with his features was quite the same treatment he regularly imposed upon himself if only mentally. What was left of him in her made it quite clear he always ended up punishing himself and taking comfort in his being completely unforgivable. If he moved on, it would make him guiltier in the eyes of his victims. At least, he faced his demons, and the certitude of the atrociousness of his crimes was a driving force for him. If he did not have that, he would not know who to be. He feared he would lose his way.

Viewing him as a lost and lonely child considerably calmed her. She was making excuses for him, because he definitely had a nasty and unfair side, but if she did not, who would? Admittedly, he did not have a good start in life, but that did not excuse everything. At some point, a choice was made, for which he was responsible. Nonetheless, focusing on atoning for an unforgivable crime did not make acting decently towards others and himself completely irrelevant. Or else, why was the point of living? Had someone he felt compelled to answer to told them that, he would have been filled with dread at the necessary everyday efforts to do. He would have felt exhausted and discouraged by the mere notion. It was better pretending it was not worth it.

Hermione was entranced by the intricacy of Severus Snape's inner workings. And it excited her to think she was only grazing the surface. She knew by then, she would have to get to the bottom of it. Some part of her was apprehensive. What if she were not able to handle it? _Well, that was why it's called a challenge,_ she mocked herself. She would not shy away from unfathomable knowledge, or she was not Hermione Granger. But she would have to take it one step at a time. If she could get him to treat her decently, he might extend the same treatment to others, seeing first-hand how it made life more enjoyable. She would become his Pygmalion and mould him for a more content existence. Drunk with the power of delusion, she moved on to Wandless and silent spell casting. It was far for perfect but she would get there. And in her over-stimulated state, she was not performing poorly.

* * *

When Hermione had exited his quarters, Severus had felt deeply satisfied with himself. He still had it. And, incidentally, he was certainly adding some moxy to her bland persona. Harry had royally peeved him that day. It was hard to believe that, not so very long ago, he had sacrificed himself for the sake of his friends. A voice in his head thought it appropriate to remind him that another man had done the same for people he did not even like, and someone long gone who never loved him enough.

It was high time to put on underwear and shapeless clothes, to bury deeply Lovegood's preposterous assumption. Dinner was almost upon him. Passing a hand through his hair, he was reminded of his ridiculous argument with Hermione. He had shamelessly used their connexion to dig deep into her insecurities. If riling people up was an art, he should definitely get an award. Then again, his life being, well his life, he would probably be cast aside for someone with a sunnier disposition. Truthfully, she had been helpful that day, but she was also responsible for his troubles. He had solved her problem with the goblins at great personal expense, and did he get a thank you? He gave and he gave, and it was never enough. He never got any reward. They were all the same: ungrateful, undeserving of his devotion, and complacently oblivious of the blessings he bestowed upon them.

So why was he the one to feel unworthy, when all he asked for was some quiet and respect? And why did Hermione's absence make him feel deserted? She would probably give him the silent treatment, if their situation permitted it. Or, she may just be practical about it, which was sufficient. Set on ignoring her, he could not help watching her covertly during dinner. She did not glance at him once and looked fierce. On top of that, Luna was seating beside him, and was giving him meaningful looks and sharing insights on topics he never would have dreamt to raise. What a dreadful day… And it got even worse when she whispered in his ear ways he could make it up to Hermione for whatever he had done to her. That prompted him to politely remind her that it would not be amiss for her to mind her own business and work on her concentration, if she wanted to succeed in her Potions N.E.W.T.s, even they were a year away. With a venomous smile, he took his leave and hoped the night would deliver him from that nightmare.

The morning after, Hermione received a letter from Harry. Severus discreetly flew it to her with an aggravated look. After their last discussion, he should have been prepared for whatever the boy would throw at him, and yet... She nearly choked on the toast she was eating. And Severus Snape's genuine amusement did not go unnoticed. As usual, people came up with many possible scenarios. Some were obvious and unflattering, and others referred to dating matters. Those were not completely off the mark.

"Dear Hermione,

Ron says hi and he can't wait to see you. I know we agreed not to mention that thing again, but I thought you would appreciate to know I read a hundred pages on my own yesterday. Maybe I have been affected by your illness. Or maybe, it is all about being passionate about your research subject, huh? The things we learn… Anyway, I "accidentally" perused through Molly's stash of romance novels, and came upon a passage you might find interesting.

"I am going to pass on to you words of wisdom which served well many generations of women in our family. Your faith is wavering, your love is corruptible, and your values bend to circumstances. When in doubt about choosing your partner in life or in bed, simply consider this: if you do not trust a person enough to allow him or her to tie you up Wandless and naked to the bedpost, they do not deserve a second glance. Certainly, if you cannot bear to be at someone's mercy, it stands to reason becoming intimate would be pointless." Enough said. And now, I can't look Molly in the eyes.

From now on, I will remain silent on the subject, but know that I really appreciate your coming through for me, once again.

P.S.: Burn this letter, and if pressed, I will deny ever touching those novels.

See you soon!

Harry"

Rolling up her eyes, Hermione had an unsettling thought: _they grow up so fast…_ Perhaps, Harry considering that advice, even in a small way, meant he was really trying to do the right thing, even though no one had really tried to give him moral guidance in that area. She reflected it could be considered good advice had it not been shared through some kind of eighteenth century libertine story. If she really thought about it, she trusted Ron enough to not harm her if such scenario unfolded, but she feared he would react very immaturely to the situation. Furthermore, a small part of her still resented his abandon. What if she never could fully rely on him? That was a disheartening thought, but after everything that had happened to her, she had become more prone to self-reliance. And she was not sorry for it.

What if she considered the problem the other way around? Would she in turn feel at ease with tying him up? She had no real problem with the thought, but it was not exactly thrilling. Perhaps it was just the author's excuse for indulging bondage fun, and not a deep philosophical message. Then again, if she had really thought about it, she would have come up with a few people she would enjoy having at her mercy in that way, if only for an educational purposes. Thinking it was time to revise Potions, she left that thought untouched. It would come back to her much later, in an altered but most effective form.

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* Rostand, Edmond. "Cyrano de Bergerac", translated from the French by Gladys Thomas and Mary F. Guillemard. Project Gutenberg website.

Zarathustra46 betaed faster than her shadow. :)

"I would like to thank the Academy", bluefirefly5, violet1994 and anthraquinblue for their comments. It helps a lot to get a sense of how you feel about this crazy story. And the imaginary sounds of laughter give me pleasant dreams.

I have actually been wondering if you listen to the songs from the playlist (in correlation with the chapter titles). The link can be found on my profile. I really believe the lyrics enhance the experience, and give insights into the characters' state of mind. Or am I delusional?

To anthraquinblue: There will be more "unconventional sensuality" my friend, oh yes, there will. *Trembling with inappropriate excitement.* After all, is there any other kind? ;)

More than 4000 views! You did it, people! Good job.

As I have published several chapters in a row, allow me to remind you to check if you have read all the previous ones.

Auf Wiedersehen!


	12. Feel Like Living

**Chapter 12: Feel Like Living (Hothouse Flowers)**

Although Severus and Hermione wanted to stay apart as much as possible, they were forced to share instructions on the conduct of her N.E.W.T.s, the goblin service and teaching. Their unpleasant although brief encounters were aggravated by symptoms of declining health. Even though Hermione was the least eager to point it out, she was astute enough to deduce it was linked to the body swap.

A little distraction came in the form of a quick trip to Diagon Alley to buy a new wand. Even though Severus was not supposed to leave the premises, the Headmistress had authorized that outing for him as Hermione had showed an interest in going to Ollivanders too. It was gesture of good faith, since a talented wizard like Severus could disarm Hermione in a heartbeat. Minerva had observed the pair pensively as they were making arrangements in her office.

Ollivander was recovering well, and enquired about Luna in an uncharacteristically normal tone. Partly to protect his body and partly for the change of wands, Severus had insisted to come along. Luckily, the Wandmaker concurred there still could be a risk of retaliation from the Dark side. Since he believed she was Severus Snape, he appeared a little guarded around Hermione. Even so, he was curious about her desire to buy a new wand. The old one worked fine. They decided to use the excuse that they both wanted to start anew after the war. Despite their dislike of Bellatrix's wand, they had to insist they found their current wands excellent. Ollivander became as eerie as ever while making them try different wands. After many unfruitful attempts, Ollivander went further in back.

For reasons unknown to her, Hermione felt compelled to try a wand from Severus' rejects pile. It had a peculiar deep red tint. As soon as her fingertips grazed the handle, blue flames began to surge from its tip. _Oh, there it is._ That was that sense of completeness she had missed. She no longer felt cut off from her magical source.

Ollivander came back at the sudden flash of light. With wonder in his eyes, he repeated to her the characteristics of the wand: fir, dragon heartstring, 12 inches. It looked different from the others because it had been soaked in the dragon's blood to reinforce its powers. It was a technique a new acquaintance had suggested. Hermione began having mixed, albeit a tad hypocritical, feelings when he told her it came from the dragon that had escaped from Gringotts. He had died after fighting against another dragon and not submitting when he ought to. The wand reacted to those qualities: powerful, resilient, and determined. But the Wandmaker had not expected that wand to respond to Severus Snape, considering his previous one. Following a hunch, he made Severus try her own castoffs. The wand that chose him was made out of Sycamore wood and had a Phoenix feather core, perfect for a talented and evolving youth ready to explore the world.

Sending the boxes back onto their shelves, Ollivander muttered "Strange, very strange… The war, possibly?" To cut short his elucidations, Severus offered to pay for his wand. But Ollivander refused, for a reason similar to the one he had given Luna. When he did not make the same offer to her, Hermione began to stare intently at Severus to pressure him into refusing to make her part of an injustice. He would have ignored her, but in her stubbornness, she was not subtle at all and made him look ridiculously indisposed. Slightly shaking his head in disapproval of her behaviour, he insisted on paying. Assuaged, Hermione followed suit. Back outside, refreshed by their new acquisitions, they surveyed their surroundings prudently before heading to the Leaky Cauldron, for a "chimney ride".

"That was pointless. I don't care about his opinion or yours, for that matter," he reproached her under his breath.

"With all due respect, I think you do. In fact, I know you do. And it was not fair for me to be rewarded if you weren't, regardless of what he knew or did not." She was not giving him her full attention, as she was thoughtfully twisting Bellatrix's wand in her pocket.

"And you are such a paragon of virtue…" That slur made her stop in her tracks.

"That's not what I meant. What are you trying to say?" She was caring less and less about keeping up appearances. _Where does he get off?_

Continuing to walk, and forcing her to hurry up to catch up to him, he attempted to bring her down a peg. His voice was as sweet as honey as he delivered blow after blow. "Oh, I don't know. Perhaps that someone who has such a history of thievery, physical assaults, and abusing other people's trust should think before acting so high and mighty. And that's without mentioning Mister McLaggen, and your tendency to misjudge people and trusting people you should not."

She was breathless, and his sallow cheeks coloured under her outrage. "You're being incredibly unfair. And we had agreed not to use inside information in arguments."

"I didn't have to and you know fairly well the "remnants" pop up unintentionally. But if I had I might expect you to apologise for setting me on fire, or stealing from the School."

She glowered at him. "I am sorry for hurting anyone, but everything reprehensible I ever did was to protect more important matters. I should think you would understand that."

So, there they were, arguing in the courtyard in which anyone could stumble upon them at any moment… Hermione put an end to their heated discussion. "You know what? Congratulations, you're right. I'm an awful person. But that will not stop me trying to do better." _So, there!_

For some reason, her caving in so easily irritated him. "Do you think I'll tolerate your humouring me?"

She firmly grasped her new wand and coolly announced, "It doesn't matter, because I'm not going back to Hogwarts with you."

"What is it now? Are you throwing a tantrum?"

"No, you insufferable man! I am going to St Mungo's to destroy that wand and offer its pieces to Neville's parents."

His exasperation grew tenfold. "That is absolutely not necessary." With a sniff of disgust, he added, "If you insist on doing it, you might as well send them the pieces, unless you want to receive those people's gratitude in person."

She shot him a look of contempt. "You understand nothing. And you can't stop me. Not unless you want to fight me constantly, or harm your body."

He scoffed. "I can and I will. And if you go without my consent, I'll visit the Burrow for a brutal break-up with Ronald. I might even get you blacklisted from the Weasleys' and Harry's company."

She sent poisoned thoughts his way and clenched her fists, but her eyes remained dry and her voice composed and low.

"I will risk it." And on that note, she Disapparated. He was left with a strong urge to strangle the impertinent witch but only thin air to grasp.

Hermione directly went to the ward where the Longbottoms were living. She was not as fuming as she usually would. What would be the point? She would just have to deal with his temper later, but for now, she would concentrate on providing closure to these poor souls. Destroying the wand could be beneficial, but she did worry about the consequences of traumatic memories coming back to the surface. She was so engrossed in her musings that she failed to notice the suspicious looks and whisperings.

The door was closed. When the motherly Healer came out, she sized her up defiantly in passing and Hermione caught a glance of Gilderoy Lockart. Hermione remembered whom she appeared to be. Not everyone had been convinced of Severus being virtuous. Besides, his Dark magic skills and spitefulness were renowned. What if what Hermione did had dreadful repercussions on his trial? She reflected on that, unable to force her way in for fear of ruining his rightful chance at freedom. She let Healer walk back in without doing anything.

"Now, you realise it…" Out of nowhere, Severus was by her side. "Give me the wand."

"Will you destroy it for them? Will you prevent them from being frightened?" She was little ashamed to ask him for that favour after challenging him. But she was not wrong. _I know I'm not._

He did not waste any time answering her as he snatched the wand away, unlocked the door and came up with an excuse for the Healer. Easily convincing her, he walked to the other side of the curtains towards the Longbottoms' beds. Hermione entered the room, stood near the doorframe, and waited for Severus to accomplish his task.

Alice Longbottom was organising coloured pieces of paper at a small rolling desk. Her husband was sitting on his bed, fiddling with the sheets and watching her handiwork. Severus told them what he thought they needed to hear until they turned towards him. He took out the wand, broke it in half without delay and threw it on the floor at their feet. They stood up, in a feeble defensive stance. It seemed as dangerous as a vicious snake to them. He could relate. They stared, without understanding what they saw, as he set it in on fire, leaving only a tiny pile of ashes that he made disappear. They did not magically turn back to whom they were, but at least they were not panicking and reliving their torture.

Before leaving, as they quickly lost interest in him, he glanced at the desk. He realised she had been folding candy wraps. Hermione's body revealed it had something to do with Neville. They had lost everything. They barely had a functioning mind between the two of them, and yet they still clung to the memory of their son. He had always wondered if there was something so rotten in him that he could not inspire such a love. Maybe he had found his answer for he was only thinking of himself when faced with others' sufferings.

At that very moment, as he reflected on his treatment of their son, he felt humbled, not because of Neville's feelings, but because of his mother's love. If Lily had ended up in that state, would he have dared to abuse her son, even if he deserved it? He looked up at the couple who was silently dialoguing or staring at the wall. He blurted out "I'm sorry?" in a weak voice. They turned towards him, and —it hurt more than the alternative— she smiled at him. Because it did not mean anything to her, it made him feel so isolated.

Hermione noticed the shift in his mood. She followed him without a word. Later, she would write a letter to the Healer to warn her to look for signs of change in their behaviours.

* * *

On the Eve of Hermione's first exam day, they were both looking so ghoulish, that Minerva considered postponing it, or at least have another teacher survey the process. That would complicate their lives, so they both made excuses for their lack of energy. Taking matters into his own hands, as usual, Severus stopped Hermione from going to Poppy for some Pepper Up, reminding her that the use of potions could be harmful, not that it would have made a difference considering their appearances.

Since their interactions were still on the frosty side, it was only his deep-rooted professorial authority that got her into his quarters. Despite her claim that she had to pass her N.E.W.T.s on her own, he wanted to discuss other options. Waiting for him to explain himself, she stood all disapproving against the desk, her legs and arms tightly folded. Looking down on him, she was giving the impression of being cross-eyed and he was most irked to see that holier-than-thou expression on his face. "Oh, grow up! I am just trying to help you, you ingrate."

They quickly got into the rhythm of their squabbles. Her nostrils were flaring, and his hair was standing up on his head.

The tension of the room made her voice tremble. "That is so rich coming from you."

"Shall I remind you again whom you are talking to?" He seemed poised, but he wanted nothing more than to kick one those stupid egg seats, for his preferred target better be avoided.

Unfolding her limbs, she forced her arms to stay by her sides and declared, "I will not let you hex me so easily this time."

He did not bother to hide his conceit. "You really think you can beat me in a duel? Don't make me laugh! And would you stop making that face? Or, I could make it stay that way if you like it so much." By his last word, both of their wands were out.

"As if anybody would notice the difference." Her eyes bulged as she felt close to imploding.

He silently sent a minor hex her way, just to teach her not to taunt him. But, it seems she had learned to use his good instincts and reflexes. She rapidly deflected it, and her fiery retaliation came in the form of terrible tickling Charm. He did not know what was worse: being so off of his game he had succumbed to her attack, being disappointed she had not been inspired by his hexing creativity, or learning that although his usual body would only have been marginally affected, his current one was extremely responsive.

Well, that sucker had given him a powerful weapon for when the natural order was re-established. But, until then he would have to suffer through laughing and rolling on the floor unabashedly. Hermione just wanted to stop him from using threats on her.

She tried to make him understand she could not bear his attitude anymore. "I'm not trying to hurt you. I believe I am entitled to a minimum of respect. And I would appreciate it if you stopped biting my head off every time something displeases you." She watched her body quiver with envy. Hoping that she had given him something to think about, she ended the hex. Her body had been under enough strain already. He looked as unhealthy as she felt. Everything else put aside, she could not put her finger on the taste that had begun to settle in her mouth. If she had to name it, it would be "corruption". She vigilantly kept her wand aimed at him.

Severus was feeling strange. Still pulsating, he experienced what he identified as much needed tension relief. So, he decided to let that one pass and move on to a more important matter. But because he was still mad at her, he did not respond to her speech. He stood up and walked slowly towards her. When her wand made contact with his chest, he unequivocally placed his own on the desk, before lightly pushing her arm to the side, indicating he expected her to do the same. She understood and went along but remained a bit apprehensive, rightly so since he secretly kept his old wand hidden on him. He quietly led her to sit with him on the sofa. Without transition, he began to stroke her hands one after the other. He followed almost amorously the familiar patterns he had taken for granted.

Hermione thought he had lost his mind until she perceived the tension fading from where their skins were in contact. She had not noticed how severely her hands had begun to shake. What did that mean? Could Severus actually cleanse her from the corruption? The relief on his face unlocked whatever had kept the truth from her. Although they used to be healthy, their unnatural condition was affecting them. Souls were attracted to their rightful living receptacle. Plainly put, that motion was a sort of nourishing flow of affection. The spirit cherished the body, and the body treasured the spirit.

It made one wonder how degraded Tom Riddle had been if such feelings had not stopped him from maiming his soul again. Their bodies would wither if their souls stayed away for too long. Did that mean that if the exchange was not reversed soon, they would die? On the verge of a panic attack, she shot away from him, grabbed her wand from the desk, and used it to divest their bodies from all clothing, apart from underwear. A stunned Severus was pulled up and cradled against his former chest in such a manner that their skins were pressed together, right over where their ribcages were shielding their hearts.

Before he could utter more than a gasp, he was suddenly struck by his own frailty. His legs were dangling in the air, and his old wand swiftly taken out had slipped from his fingers from weakness. Protesting against that vulnerability, he was about to send a surge of Wandless magic against his aggressor, when warmth spread all over his body from where their skins were in contact. Letting escape an involuntary sound of exultation, he sensed their bodies lower to the feathery rug where he felt enveloped by strong arms and body heat, in a bond of devotion.

When Hermione came back to her senses in the middle of the night, she felt more rested than she had in a long time. Severus stirred in his sleep but amazingly enough calmed down after she whispered "Everything is all right." She did not want him to make a scene. She felt a sting where a little patch of skin on her back had been pressed against the seat of the sofa. As long as that was the worst she had to suffer through, she took it as sign that if they did that from time to time, their lives might be preserved.

But she needed to research that. For instance, would she die if he were killed? Refusing to worry herself to death, she enjoyed the moment. It was strange to feel protective of him and herself, but it was empowering as well. Grabbing her wand and smoothly carrying Severus to his exotic bedroom, she deeply inhaled the fragrances of aromatic oils, citrus fruits and incense. They were intense and diversified without being overwhelming, and they made her somnolent. She walked through the tropical plants in a peculiar Japanese garden. The lotus flowers lamps were getting dimmer each step she took towards the futon set on black and white stones. She Transfigured her boxers into pyjama pants and Severus' undies into a negligée. She cautiously lay down and comfortably set his body by her side, his head nestled against her shoulder, and she was careful not to pull his hair. One of her hands rested on her companion's shoulder and the other one was on the back of his head. The bed was not hard. The stones began rolling silently beneath them, creating a soothing vibration. As she succumbed to a peaceful slumber, the upbeat tune of their hearts spoke of being home.

Upon awaking in the morning, Severus wished he never had to move. Eyes closed, he nuzzled his new nose against the hollow of his shoulder and drank his fill of his musky scent. Even though he could smell the perfume of some products, there was a primal and familiar undercurrent. But there was an intruder in this private moment. Hermione was still sleeping. He could guess what had come over her last night. She had been impulsive but her direct approach had worked wonders. It was a bit frustrating that had there been a witness to that scene, he would have been considered a molester. The enchanted glass rectangles floating in the room acted as magical windows which allowed more light in the closer it got to his wake-up time.

Disentangling himself from the clutches of one of his most constant sleep partners, he resolved to talk with her instead of just escaping to his woody bathroom. Verily, he was fond of that bathroom which was functional and homey. It would not be out of place in a luxurious summer resort. In there, he had been thrilled to discover the joys of using a sauna. One time, he had spent hours reading in there (with the temperature set to a non-harmful heat), in a long chair, with a delicious fresh cocktail. Putting that thought aside, he shook her lightly, then harder. His embarrassment changed into gaiety after watching one emotion fight the other on her face: dreamy contentment, surprise, apprehension, determination, doubt, shy hope, and so on. She finally settled on the familiar overzealous student mode. It was strange to be reminded of her youth in that manner.

"Oh no! Am I late for the Transfiguration exam? I wanted to read my notes once more!" She began moving around in search for her wand. Despite their apparels, she only saw spells, hand motions and disclaimers against wrongful Transfigurations. Clearly, she was on roll, so he stopped her curtly. "Calm down. You are going to be on time. You should get ready and go to breakfast. Remember to take the subjects from Minerva and I will meet you in the Muggle Studies classroom." Hermione had to smile at the contrast between his tone and words, and his appearance. "Now, stop ogling me, and get on with it." Habits were hard to break. He had meant to apologise for his behaviour from the day before. But really, if he started to say sorry, he would still be at it by lunchtime. It was paralyzing. _What difference would it make anyway?_ Perhaps some of his musings had shown on his face, because she tilted her head and nodded sympathetically. When he did not snap at her, she lowered her eyes away from his face and stared at the patterns she drew with her index finger on the silk sheet.

"Hmm, I think that no matter how objectionable we might find the situation, we should repeat that type of contact to avoid deteriorating our health. Ahem, do you agree?"

Only the sounds of her breathing and of an invisible river flow broke the silence, until he decided to answer "Yes." That lessened her mortification at being forced to formulate such a solicitation. That was until he perniciously added, "But if you ever assault me like last night, you will regret it."

Warming up under her embarrassment, she used her wand to dress up and have at least that small defensive barrier. It really was extraordinary how he was able to keep her guessing, even though she had access to many of his memories. Apparently, the tool to see through his shell was not an all-access key to his mind or body. _What else is there?_

It would take Severus more time to summon enough consideration and interest in her to actually think of her along those lines. Granted, she was usually candid. But, to him, she would then appear enigmatic in her own way. Her technique differed from his, as she buried the truth from herself as well as others under many layers of disclosed information. But that interesting piece of knowledge was no concern of his at that point. Having obtained his assent, Hermione took her leave, only too happy to escape the reminders of how bold she had been. Severus stopped her before she exited the bedroom by soberly encouraging her. "I expect you to do particularly well during your exams."

He was rewarded with a beaming smile which lit up his facial features. For a few seconds, he wished he had had more reasons to smile that way during his earlier incarnation. Who knew how it would have affected others. Of course, he could imagine their shock. But what if it ended up being frequent enough to attract people's goodwill towards him? _So, that's how you get infected with positive thinking? I did not see it coming._ Putting thoughts on his guarded nature aside, he had to get ready. And, if he hurried up to breakfast, it was not because he wanted her to hear people wish him good luck. _Definitely not…_

The rest of the week and a half of exams, including the weekend, went on without a hitch. Even if he showed he disapproved of her obsessive behaviour, he let her review out loud her answers to the exams. Because he remembered how he used to be, he sometimes listened and made constructive remarks. And without meaning to, just by lending an ear and providing sarcastic repartee he made her recognise that she was being unproductive. Being thorough was commendable, but she should use her time more efficiently. From that moment on, she just made checklists with what was expected and the bonus elements she had provided. If she missed something, she would just have to brush up on the subject later, and not complain endlessly about what she could do nothing about.

Anyways, after she left Hogwarts, she would set her own precision standards for her knowledge. That prospect filled her with both apprehension and enthusiasm. But she decided to leave the crippling sealing of her fate to after she had received her results. Thankfully, nobody had disrupted the process and the magic of the identity proofing charm on the papers Severus and her had signed everyday had worked like a, well like a charm really. When it would be over, she would have the satisfaction of founding her future accomplishments on her own hard work and dedication. She would have proven that regardless of her background, or perhaps thanks to it, her magic was potent and estimable. Her mere existence was meant to tear the very fabric of the pure-blood supremacy propaganda. Properly fired up, she braced herself for the wait.

By the second day of waiting, Severus had to step in. He had finished the Wolfsbane, and had claimed she was too fidgety to assist. Consequently, she had felt like a fraud when she had delivered it to Slughorn. Severus had only seen her during the meals, and every time his eyes looked up to her at the single table shared by the students and staff, he was assailed by visions of her stressing over imaginary scholastic failures, and those dated back from before she had gone to Hogwarts. She was even making him nervous.

So, to distract her, he taught her singular enchantments and even accepted teaching her the theory behind his special flying skill. As a result, in true Hermione fashion, she had begun to lay down the frame of the same spell cleaned up from Voldemort's influence. To further take her mind off of her grades, she proposed to Severus another regenerative "physical". Startlingly, Severus accepted. They were both aware their decay was much less pronounced than the last time and they had to work within their boundaries. Compromising, they averted their eyes, liberated their upper bodies from clothing, apart from his bra, sat back to back on her hammock, each of their shins dangling on one side, and they read.

It was a moment of tranquil distraction. That was until she began visualizing everyone she had ever been in contact with reacting to her predictable failure. By the time the image of a solicitous Trolley witch lady followed that of a disdainful Draco Malfoy, her feet were swaying so brutally in annoyance, that she had kicked him. She felt his pain, and not only figuratively. He threw his book on the floor and slid down to face her and eloquently condemned her ludicrous behaviour, quite like Vision Severus. She hung her head in self-pity. But he just did not get it was not only about scores.

She was about to retort when she caught sight of their reflections in a window. She laughed so hard she fell on the floor. It took her a while to convey to Severus the necessity of putting on a blouse. Severus disapproved of her erratic behaviour but was relieved she was not depressed anymore. Should he be concerned he always ended up surrounded by deranged characters? What did that say about him? _Probably that I am the only sane person left on earth._ He understood the comedy of the situation and her lifted mood was an improvement, but was she not going overboard? He shrugged, guessing without revisiting her memory that her friends practiced that move a lot around her. By the time Hermione was done, she had been struck by inspiration.

Now was the time to convince Severus to deliver her speech. He seemed in a more lenient disposition than usual, and would at least hear her out. Her robe was back on and Severus was about to pick up his book. Stopping him and slickly (she thought) guiding him towards a seat, she stooped in front of him so he would not think she was trying to intimidate him. Taking a deep breath, she launched herself in a passionate vindication of the necessity of her speech. She explained the many reasons why the conditions were ideal, and her motives holy.

Unmoved by her ardour, he impassively told her how the real world worked. "And a speech will not change people's behaviour. They do not want to change. Like I told you before, they want nothing more than the comfort of their old lives back at this point. If you try to disturb the peace they are desperate to regain, you will become the enemy. Since, I have had more than my share of that, I'll pass." He had no plan of exerting himself more than necessary, and it was high time he stopped being influenced by her. He really thought she would quickly see the error of her ways, and that would be that. In that respect, he was being incredibly naïve.

Hermione had underestimated herself. She had thought she would leave the decision to him, but considering his arguments, she realised she could not let it go. She was animated by a righteous fire surpassing anything she had experienced before. Thus, she began reciting a detailed and compelling account of the potential war that was still upon them. She punctuated every argument with a squeeze of his knee through the fabric, and inching closer. She was not even aware she was doing it.

Sensing danger, and disturbed by the familiarity of the contact, he stood up and moved behind the seat. From behind that shield, he began insulting her to break her focus. "You are more foolish than I gave you credit for if you think the Minister would let you disrupt his precious Ceremony. In case you don't realise it, it is going to be a stepping stone for his political career." The unwavering confidence he saw in her eyes compelled him to try to dig deeper. "Even if people are receptive to your ideas, they will forget by the time they get to the buffet. I know you need to champion desperate causes to give your life some semblance of meaning and try fitting in our world. What a pity people will never accept to be condemned by the likes of you. Try to remember, your past failures alone plainly show your activism is doomed. Do I really need to point out to you that house-elves will never accept the freedom you want to impose on them? You are forcing on a completely different culture your own view of what a fulfilled life is." Because she was clearly intend on disagreeing, he added something he had meant to say for a long time. "I know someone you did that to, and condemned to a life of torments when he only asked for a peaceful death he was entitled to. You know what, Hermione?" He made her name sound like a bad joke. "You are nothing more than a selfish misguided child who wants to play God. Does that remind you of someone? I'll give you a hint, his name rhymes with "idle"…"

That definitely hurt her feelings, not because of the character flaws he threw in her face, but because he still considered he should have died. Obviously, everything he said, she had worried about at some point, and he knew it. But hearing him say it out loud with her voice had the opposite effect of making her consider her insecurities exaggerated. Armed with a renewed determination, she made her case like her life depended on it. She even got to use his trademark sarcasm against him, even if she could not go very far if she wanted to get him on her side. Not caring anymore if he felt threatened, she stood up and circled around the seat to give more power and stature to her words. "Is that all you can do? You attack my character to destroy my ideas? I expected more from you. I won't answer to those attacks. The speech can work, I'm sure of it. Firstly, the Minister has already agreed to let me say what needs to be said, provided I send him the speech beforehand. Secondly, I know you are experienced in the inner workings of human nature and politics, but I am not completely ignorant either. I can give countless examples of human revolutions, despite the influence of inertia. That very inertia can serve the changes. Of course, speeches cannot change the world instantly. But they can become a symbol for change, or the excuse people needed. They can plant seeds of ideas in people's minds. Thirdly, the timing is better than you think, as crises can open people up to new ideas. And the same can be said of the post-war euphoria."

She could not tell how, but she knew he was attentively listening, even though his whole body language expressed disdain for her ideas. So, she firmly grabbed his shoulders to keep him from escaping the truth. Bending over a little, she noticed once again how being in close proximity with her affected him. She had to tread lightly, if did not want him to completely close up. Gently handling a few locks of his hair between her fingers, she tried to communicate her positive outlook on their partnership. "We can't be sure it is going to work before trying, can we? What do we really risk that we have not faced before? Even if only one person really hears us, it will be worth it. And that is definitely possible. Come on, Severus, would it not be cowardly to wait for someone else to have the courage to stand up? You must have wanted to change the wizarding world at some point too. I believe you once shared my views on at least one issue. With your talent at catching people's attention and a few alterations, the speech will make a difference. We can make a difference. You can make a difference. Isn't it what you always wanted?"

Severus swallowed his saliva with difficulty. If he did not know better, he would suspect her of using a Charm to confuse him and trouble his breathing. He was miffed she had dared calling him a coward, sort of. And he knew a manipulation attempt when he heard one. Slithering out of her clutches, he took another tack. "What if people use your words to justify their agenda and hurt people for the "Greater Good"?"

"I can't control everything." He mockingly arched his eyebrows and she glared at him. "Really. All I am doing is urging people to think for themselves, to exert their own judgement, to take responsibility for the harm they mindlessly cause. Raising consciousness is in itself a worthy objective. What people do remains a consequence of their own free will."

He decided not to rouse her by arguing the relativity of free will. In that moment, it was painfully evident to him that as much as she still respected his authority, she would be relentless. Devotion and single-mindedness were no strangers to him, but it was something else altogether. Whatever that rush was, it radiated from every pore of her being. Severus sensed the shift in the atmosphere, and that was what would eventually make him yield. He could not believe in the cause, but was envious of the pure faith emanating from the witch who, a few minutes ago, was having a mental breakdown over grades.

How could she possibly believe in singlehandedly revolutionising centuries old traditions? Even so, he knew taxing her of hubris would be erroneous. So, he studied her striking presence from a few feet away, with the weight of her hands still lingering on his shoulders. While he was thinking, he absent-mindedly twirled the strands of hair she had touched around his fingers. She was enhancing his features with a buoyant determination never witnessed there before. And he felt so very small, all of the sudden, as if for all his shrewdness, his outlook on life were terribly confined. He inspired heavily to chase that perception away. The area around his nose was prickling. She did not notice the havoc she had caused in him. Feeling even more dissociated from himself in that foreign flesh, he willed himself to have a little confidence in her, in the hope of somewhat incorporating some of her drive, and experience the world as she did. It certainly livened things up. The question remained: which one of them had scales on their eyes?

He considered the worst that could happen. Would her endeavour fail completely, he would have the disillusioned pleasure of reminding her of her mistake. That should keep her in line. With an undefinable expression, he gathered his things, and prepared to leave through the door. Just on the crisp of being considered outside, he turned towards her falling face. "I'll do it."

Had she not been close to levitating in delight, she would have rolled her eyes at his convoluted ways. Instead, she locked the door before prancing all around the room in a primitive dance of triumph accompanied by sounds of foghorn, seagull calls, the wind and crashing waves. Her quarters seemed to say "Good for you!"

The moment he left, Severus felt a little light-headed. So, once again he had been coerced into getting involved in the improvement of Wizardkind. Was it not strange his self-interest ultimately led to philanthropic deeds? It was however bothersome because he would have to care enough to be inspiring. Whatever you thought of Severus Snape, he knew how to take it upon himself to fulfil his commitments. At least, nobody would make fun of him _per se_ if he wrecked the performance.

The next day, Hermione and Severus worked on the speech and the special animations she had planned. Afterwards, they went over lesson plans and teaching conducts: he should act fairly and patiently, and she should be stern, sarcastic, and above all else command respect. He spent a long time giving her tools to captivate the audience. How demeaning it would be if she made him appear inarticulate and hesitant! She would never be able to perfectly emulate his style, which was a relief in a small way because it reminded him of his uniqueness. He trained her to fit the illusion to some degree. He was hard on her, humiliating at times. She was no pushover but she let it go and kept her eyes on the bigger picture. And she could see the anxiety behind the harsh criticism. It was curious to feel dignified and strong under abuse. Those preparations would go on until the first day of class, which was coming fast. That day, Hermione sent her speech to Kingsley, as well as ideas to deal with the uncertain determination of real Voldemort partisans. It would so happen that Kingsley would make the daring political move of allowing her to express her opinions freely during an official Ministry function.

* * *

Before going back to Hogwarts, Ron and Harry reluctantly came back to the Ministry. That place held so many miserable memories. But there were distractions in the form of people asking about the Gringotts scoop. Their answer was invariably: thank you for your interest with a side of no comment. Nevertheless, they got their Apparition licences without any problems. Even with people gawking at them, Ron was detached enough not to care. He certainly had enough recent illegal practices. They used that opportunity to go the Aurors' office to set up their internships. It was decided that they would travel by Floo powder to the Ministry seven hours a week. Ron was sure glad they would get paid for it. After signing the papers, Harry went to the Wizengamot Administration Services to clarify some problems with the many testimonies he had been asked to give and Ron went to the International Magical Trading Standards Body. There, he got the information and pamphlets he needed.

Waiting for Harry, he unexpectedly met Madam Rosmerta who was there for some licence issue over a new drink. She gave him good insights into the world of small business ownership. When she took her leave, he could have sworn her touch on his arm lingered, and her eyes flew to his lips._ Is she trying to seduce me?_ If he had not been with Hermione, he would have jumped on the occasion: beginning his sex education with such a luscious woman. He would have to find a way to convince Hermione to quickly further their physical intimacy. _Yeah, doing it with a hot teacher!_ For once in a long time, he felt happy to be himself.

A few moments later, he gave a one-armed hug to a relieved-looking Harry, out of sheer contentment at his prospects. After buying Time-Turner earrings for their studious friend in the Ministry gift shop, they Apparated back to the Burrow.

During dinner, Percy and Arthur regaled the family of tales of Death Eaters punishments. Some Ministry employees had been in disagreement over the possibility of a nationwide interrogating process. Parchments would be Charmed to prevent cheating and they would be filled out in the Ministry. The results would not be absolutely certain, but they would help drawing the line between dangerous elements and regular citizens. The Ministry would have to prove they would not condemn people solely on the basis of the questionnaire, but it would be a preliminary process. People refusing to answer would of course attract suspicion. The questions suggested were:

"Did you support You-Know-Who's campaign for blood purity?"

"Did you voluntarily injure or kill someone against their will?"

"Do you believe in pureblood supremacy?"

Although it had supporters, the project was killed over worries of hindering people's freedom. Moreover, it was also too reminiscent of the traumatic Muggle-born trials. It was stirring up too much shame within the remaining Ministry workers who turned a blind eye on them. Another idea was milder but rested upon voluntarism so it could be implanted more easily. The Ministry would offer rehabilitation sessions to help educating people prejudiced against Muggles. Only people proven guilty of such prejudice, or causing reasonable doubt on that front (for instance, people claiming to have been Imperiused), would have sessions forced upon them by the justice system. For lack of funds, the guides would have to be volunteers. The only incentives for other people would be small advantages offered by the Ministry.

* * *

That night, Ron escaped his room and went back to see Lavender. Every previous occasion, he had been sneaky enough to watch over her without her reacting to his presence. He had seen her family caring for and supporting her. But it was clear her parents feared that their daughter's life was over, although they bravely tried to hide it. It did not help that Lavender was being completely passive. He had come the day after her first full moon and she had looked worse than after her attack, so frail that a gust of wind might have made her fade into nothingness. And it seemed she would have welcomed that gust of wind. The Healers had been discussing the reply sent by Snape on the altered effects of the treatments. It might be due to her constitution or some sort of timing issue, considering she only had some of the werewolf traits and did not transform. Lavender did not care.

She was living in her mind, reminiscing on the life she could have had. She remembered the little things that used to define her. For instance, she used to have two pet peeves: very old people and Muggle beggars. And no, she was not being shallow. It was not that she disliked old people. Some of them were even cute in a toothless baby-like kind of way. But she never knew what to say to them. The only thing she could think about was how close to death they were, and how it made death closer to her, and how she was sure they knew what she was thinking about and how sad that made them. Although that feeling had faded a little with interactions with ghosts and powerful elder wizards and witches, she still got uncomfortable because of it. She reflected that people might feel that way towards her own condition. That was depressing.

Concerning beggars, she recalled times when she had gone out with family and friends and had come upon those hollowed out creatures that seemed close to getting engulfed by the pavement. The Dementors provoked the same impression of misery in her. Although their situations were not her fault, she felt guilty about her life. They burst her happiness bubble and coerced her into giving all she had on her for some peace of mind. But, what would the Dementors show her if they came in her room now?

She thought it should not matter anymore but she wanted nothing more than follow her fancy like she used to, caring about her appearance and such. Her parents had brought her a new robe for the summer classes, but she had cried her eyes out when she had seen herself in the mirror. Who knew there was such a thing as too skinny? Her shiny hair was now a disgrace on top of another one. She had a glimmer of a dangerous charm but it was subdued under her self-hatred.

That was her last day at St Mungo's before going home. Although she was sure it would be painful, she had decided to come back to Hogwarts, partly because she could not stand the prison of her mind any longer, partly because she wanted to get revenge on the healthy ones by forcing them to be in her presence. Some people could not bear being pitied, but Lavender saw it as a validation of her pain. She hoped Hermione Granger would have the good grace of feeling guilty after condemning her to this diminished life. But she doubted it. After all, she had been very complacent about stealing her boyfriend. People thought it had been purely physical between Ron and her, but Lavender knew she understood him better than Hermione ever could.

They surely would have made a very caring couple, had that bushy-haired menace not been in the way. Ron had probably chosen Hermione because Harry Potter approved of her and did not want anyone to mess up his entourage. Other than that, she could not see what he found in her. She had given him everything. And apparently he knew it on some level because he continued visiting her. At first, she had been angry at him. But then again, she was angry at almost everyone, and felt better for it. But he could not come there only to mock her. Maybe he also felt alone and misunderstood. It did not mean she would welcome him with open arms, but she cultivated the hope of still being desirable to him. She would have to test his motives. His silent presence had helped her. She had a witness. She still existed. And because this was her last opportunity before school, she decided to probe him. She had smelled him directly upon arrival. That was disturbing, but it was a skill that might come in handy. She had her new wand in her hand and shut and locked the door behind him. Something fell to the floor.

"Show yourself", she commanded. Ron became visible and sheepishly picked up a stuffed flamingo from the floor. He had spent his last Knut on it. He had a reassuring, warm, and almost sunny presence. He had grown manlier and rugged that last year. She knew he would have normally skedaddled, but was now ready to talk.

"Um… Hi Lavender." He deposited the flamingo in the hand that was not holding a wand and sat beside her. He seemed weary somehow. Her old feelings for him came rushing back and diminished her resentment. And it lessened her current pain, so she went with it.

Without thinking she asked him: "Are you okay?"

He eyed her oddly. "Am I…" His surprise caused a fit of joyless laughter. She began to feel insulted but realised he was not laughing at her but at the whole situation. He hit his forehead with the palm of his hand before passing his fingers through his hair in shame. He pulled a little of his hair out, but did not notice, nor care. The fact that she could make him feel a fraction of the pain he caused her made her feel better. His body shook as he was trying to control himself.

Finally, he managed to form sentences. "Blimey, Lavender. Sorry for that. I didn't mean to laugh like that. I was just feeling sorry for myself. Anyway, I wanted to apologise for the way I treated you. You're a good person, and you deserve better. And I'm sorry for what that monster did to you. If you need anything, just say the word. If you need support, I'm here for you. I know life must seem tough right now. But, you're not alone."

It was not a declaration of undying love, but he did say some of the things she had longed to hear. Yet, it was not enough.

"So, that's it? Ronald Weasley comes in on his shiny broomstick bearing a gift, and it's supposed to make things right again? Do you feel better now? Because, I certainly don't. You know nothing of my torments. And I don't I need your pity. Go back to your girlfriend and leave me be."

She noticed his slight wince at the word "girlfriend". "Oh, I see. There's trouble in paradise and you're looking for someone to comfort you, is that right? I bet she is quite the prude. Well, hop on, then. Use me like you did before. It's not as if men will line up at the possibility to get it on with someone tainted. Or is that it? You are so desperate to be thought of as special, that you want to try to be kinky? You are even more pathetic than I." Her violent outburst quickly rendered her out of breath. She used her last bout of energy to throw his gift in his face. Then, she fell back inelegantly on the bed. She was all cried out, so she simply stared at the ceiling. She knew she had shocked him. And his silence proved to her that she must have been right on at least some accounts. She did not want some pity support from the man she loved, or had loved. But that was probably all she was going to get anyways. _Why doesn't he leave already? _Maybe Hogwarts would be too hard to bear after all. After a while, she noticed him move closer. She growled a warning, uncaring if was unladylike. He did not shy away, and what he said before leaving resolutely, was a powerful reminder of how his good side would always redeem his bad one.

"You're right. I can't understand what you're going through. But my brother was hurt by Greyback. And, I'm ready to listen to you whenever you are. I've wronged you in many ways, and so have others. Still, I have more pity for myself than for you. I believe you're stronger than even you're aware. I believe that, with time, you'll have the power to live the life you want to live. And I believe that because of those scars you're beautiful. And if people don't see it, they are morons. And just to be clear, I'm not expecting favours of any kind from you. I just think it's time for you to have a friend in me. So, when we're back at Hogwarts, expect me to be by your side when needed, regardless of what people say."

Right after bidding her goodnight, he was gone. After using magic to get the stuffed bird from the floor, she pondered whether to maul it or hold it close. She would take Ron up on his offer, just so she would have to something to look forward to. And the next time, she would not forget asking him if he really had spattergroit.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx

"Feelings… Nothing more than feelings… Feelings of…" :)

Zarathustra46 was the voice of reason. She made me redo a dialogue that was not enough of one. Again, what do we say? "Not today," I mean "thank you, Zara."

As usual, bluefirefly5 and violet1994 you are wonderful! Welcome and thank you, Luna de Papel! You were the first to point out the reference to Niles rather than Tom. A snowflake to you! I do try to keep the pop culture references as unobtrusive as possible. I try…

I will dedicate the next chapter to this chapter's best reviewer. Let the game begin! You are only allowed to bleed ink. Yes, that makes sense. And there will be bonus points for arguing the relevance, or lack thereof, of "Feel Like Living".


	13. Inside of You

**Chapter 13: Inside of You (Infant Sorrow)**

Two days before the beginning of July, Severus received Hermione's results, but before he could give the letter to her, the few people at the breakfast table began to come up to him, speaking of an article in the Prophet, and congratulating him for outstanding results. Some were lightly teasing him by calling him "Professor Granger". He forced himself to act surprised and modest, but did not have to fake proud pleasure at her anticipated success. He gave her points for work ethic, although she could get exaggeratedly intense about it.

Following the rest of the assembly's motions at lunch time, he raised a glass of wine, courtesy of the Headmistress, to Hermione's success. Looking at Hermione directly in the eyes, he gave a subtle nod as well as a mocking shrug and eyebrows lifting. All through the day, he received congratulatory hugs, handshakes and letters among which was a glowing praise from the Minister.

To his surprise, she did not ask for them and just bracelet-asked him to get them to her quarters whenever he wanted. He expected her to want to hold the proof of her full Optimal strike. But she appeared strangely subdued and detached. Was her previous annoying comportment just an act to mess with him? Was she pouting because he was the centre of attention? She disappeared for the rest of the day. But he could not enjoy the peace when he was preoccupied about her peculiar behaviour. She was up to something.

Just before diner, he received a visit in his quarters from Minerva. When he realised it was meant to be an inspiring moment between Hermione and her mentor, he made a quill unobtrusively take notes. Declining his offer of tea, she sat in front of him, in one of the egg seats.

"Miss Granger, can I call you Hermione?" He acquiesced. "I come to you not only as the Headmistress, but as your teacher and I hope somewhat of a parental figure and a potential friend. As such, I want to convey my deepest pride for your academic performance and admirable human qualities. I have full confidence in your ability to rise to any challenge you will encounter, and I know you will be successful in everything you undertake. I don't mean to pressure you into perfection. Success also means using your mistakes for growth and evolution. Hermione, I wish you a fulfilling personal life as well, and so do many others. She paused. "Sometimes, it happens that driven people such as yourself neglect to cultivate that aspect of their lives. It would pain me to see you go down that road.

"You probably wonder why I am here." She searched for the right words. "I want you to know I am here if you need guidance, if you want to explore your options… And if your teaching experience goes as planned and satisfies you, you can rest assured Hogwarts will welcome you with open arms, although you will have to get formal accreditation before becoming a regular Hogwarts teacher. That being said I will not overstay my welcome, and offer this token of love and confidence in your abilities."

She held out a handsomely sombre lacquer jewellery and music box. It was tastefully adorned with pearly representations of magical creatures. They were ever changing. Somehow, it seemed anticlimactic to Severus, but true to form, he thanked her profusely. Maybe Hermione would be embarrassed by the extravagant gift, but he could not muster the energy to protest. Minerva almost had a playful reaction to his thanks. Although she was not a maudlin sort of person, his discomfort at such a sentimental moment made him wish she would just leave. He should not be here for this.

But she was not done. "There is actually more to it than aesthetic pleasure. I hope it will help to remember people care about you when you doubt yourself. Maybe we should have gotten you a wizard clock, but it seemed too unimaginative and we did not know if your parents had given you one." At the mention of her parents, he felt something similar to an invisible paw piercing his host's skin. And nausea threatened to overcome him if he persisted to dig deeper.

Minerva was still talking. She was explaining the properties of the box, but he would have to read the transcript for the information he missed. "And what I think you will appreciate the most is my personal gift to you." She opened the box which curiously remained mute. Inside, in one of the compartments, on a velvety cloth, there a tiny and seemingly innocuous book and a folded leaf filled with blue and red petals. Noticing his inquisitive expression, she explained, "The volume compiles everything you need to know to become an Animagus, including my personal insights. On the last page, you can request appointments with me for advice and direct assistance, which I recommend. Lastly, those have been extracted from particular flowers and treated so that inhalation of the smoke resulting from their burning would allow you to visualize your inner animal."

Severus wondered who had brewed the substance. Perhaps the whole package had been bought. _How generous!_ He inwardly sneered.

"Their utilizations are controlled by the Ministry, so I expect you to use them wisely. To make myself clear, should you share them with close friends, you shall be responsible for their safety in case they attempt the transformation as well. I know you understand the risks."

It was official, Severus was jealous. _What a remarkable gift!_ In his youth, he had attempted to become an Animagus. But he was conflicted. He wanted to prove he was meant to be with Lily, to fit her Patronus which, as the case often was, was the same animal as her own Animagus. But at the same time, becoming a doe proved difficult because changing one's sex during such a transformation was dangerous. And his body revolted against the mere consideration of becoming a stag. Moreover, he had also wanted to augment his standing with the Dark Lord by becoming some kind of a reptile.

Once, taunted by Death Eaters on his abilities, he had put himself in jeopardy and had sustained a transformation into a nondescript snake for a short while. The pain had been excruciating, although he had pretended to be smug under praises. He had forced a natural process and damaged something pure and true deep within himself. Unwilling to add to his overall sense of wretchedness and inadequacy, he had declared the process beneath him. Could he convince Hermione to use her gift as well? He probably could, especially if he appealed to her compassionate nature. But, would he? What if the smoke revealed something intolerable? And it might be worse if he saw nothing. A little resentful at the world's injustices, he still gushed appropriately.

He also enquired politely about his other benefactors. "When you said "we" whom were referring to?"

"Simply the Hogwarts staff. Most of them worked on the enchantments. The wood comes from a stack selected by Hagrid for our professional and personal use."

Could Hermione have known about it? He asked, "Did everyone participate in its elaboration? I am just wondering whom I should thank."

With raised eyebrows, Minerva replied, "Everyone helped, in one way or another."

"Even Professor Snape?" He made himself sound disbelieving but not too intensely so. Still, Minerva took notice of the interest.

"Well, he did give us interesting ideas, but he was not aware it was for you. I can only imagine how he would have protested against getting involved in such trivial matters. He is of course very knowledgeable in many subjects, but even he refuses to show he cares about others. It will take time for him to realise the war is over and it is acceptable to socialize. I am hoping he will open up little by little." At that point, she eyed him sharply. Severus thought it was quite unlike Minerva to discuss his character with a student, albeit a recent graduate. He resisted the urge to put her in her place. "At any rate, don't worry yourself over expressing our gratitude to any of us. Your happiness was our objective, and it seems we succeeded. This is your night. Enjoy it."

Severus considered all the people involved and decided it would be adequate to write a thank-you note to be copied for everyone concerned, which he would do while waiting for Hermione to show up. He understood Minerva was not seriously protesting his initiative. Really, why did people find it necessary to politely decline something they in fact expected? How tiresome it was to deal with them… Minerva's expression became hesitant as she moved to leave the room.

"Hermione, I am going to level with you. Paintings have reported to me hints of your recent closeness to Severus. Obviously, I will not be as daft as to accuse either of you of anything untoward. I respect your judgement and right to privacy. I will go as far as congratulating you both on gaining a loyal friend. Although I am aware that he might think me a hypocrite after allowing his impeccable acting abilities to make me misjudge him for so long. Anyways, you are both adults, and capable of defending yourselves against manipulation. Still, as a woman, I will only say you can come to me if you ever feel uneasy about matters. However, as the Headmistress of a school which has a very potent rumour mill and gossiping paintings, I must advise you to be more open about your association, which is not a request to disclose anything about it, but for instance, talk in public or study together in the Library. Why should you hide if there is nothing to be ashamed of? On a more pragmatic level, I should point out that your relationship, if revealed in a non-scandalous way, might affect favourably Severus' trial and help him interact with others."

Was she defending his honour as well? Severus was surprised she had not accused him of preying on the young woman. Should he feel miffed because she was not even considering the option of a romantic entanglement, probably because of who he was? It was possible, she felt guilty about her previous oversight. If he were honest with himself, he would be pleased that for once someone did not expect the worst of him. It had the ripple effect to make him want to live up to that higher expectation. Was it how one became an upstanding citizen?

He assured her they were mostly studying partners, not even friends really, but that they would take her advice into consideration. For good measure, he added that Hermione had pursued "Professor Snape" for teaching advice. And because she had helped him and he was expected to be grateful about it, he had relented. He truly did not expect the forced alliance to last.

Honestly, Minerva was relieved not to have to discuss that subject with Severus. She supposed those two intellectuals could make good friends and those were in short supply. Quite aware they might be hiding something, she deemed it not unsavoury. All the same, she had a million other matters to attend and knowing Hermione was not prone to lying, she bid her goodbye and allowed her to dine in her quarters.

Severus Summoned a small glass of a type of alcohol he thought Hermione's body could stomach, something with Irish cream. It was too sweet for both of them, so he settled for a tangy wine. But he never really liked alcohol, because of his childhood, and a strong averseness to losing control. That did not change in her body. Why should he celebrate for her alone, anyway? Finally remembering to put the note-taking quill to rest, he reached for the parchment. Apparently, Hermione should touch the interior mirror and think of a melody to set it up. The visible compartments would welcome small objects, like jewels, and could be pulled up in one motion to reveal a bottom compartment that worked like her beaded handbag.

Where on earth was she? Should she not be bustling in uninvited to get her precious tokens of acknowledgement? He asked her just that through the bracelet, and paced furiously while waiting for an answer that did not come. _Who does she think she is?_ After rapidly taking care of the thank-you notes, he made full use of his talents and hunted her down. When he did not find her, not even when glancing in the Dining Hall at dinner, which would make Minerva think he had not been listening to her, he decided to order an elf to do it for him, just to spite her.

When he arrived by the lakeside, he made her visible again. She was floating on her back, fully-clothed, looking blankly at the sky. He felt as though he were watching his drowned self. Oddly enough, it was not a pleasant sight. He was no Ophelia. "Don't you think you are being a little dramatic?" She stayed aggravatingly silent. Putting the cloth holding her letters and gifts by the shoes she had left on shore, he started to walk back to the Castle. But then, he stopped, pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed, and returned to her. He knew how to play the patience game. After a while, she began to feel unnerved by his presence, and weakly stated that she was fine and just was out for a swim. _Please, like I am going to fall for that…_

He tried to search for the cause of her mood. It had begun in the morning. Thinking it had probably something to do with the results, he explored the memories of similar events. The source of the problem soon became evident. By that time, she had gotten out of the water, and dried herself. Still avoiding his gaze, she put on her shoes and used _Lumos_ to see what he had brought her. She dutifully thanked him, grabbed the whole package and took her leave. He used his commanding aura and a spurious pretext linked to her beloved speech to get into her quarters. When he ordered an elf to bring them dinner, he noticed no sign of disapproval. She really was out of it. He wished he was as well, because he did not need another heart to heart. Sadly, she did. They ate in silence. She read the letters, tickled by her best friends' present. She got a little excited about Minerva's gift. Reading their discussion, she began to sniffle. That sound brought back disagreeable memories. Her defences were so low that when he decided to press her for answers, she jumped at that reminder of his presence.

"We need to discuss your parents. I have respected your demands on that front." _Because I had forgotten about them._ "But you are making it very difficult for me to continue. Obviously, your dejected behaviour has something to do with them, unless you are pouting about my receiving your praises. Explain yourself, now."

She was angered by the briskness of his tone on such a delicate issue, and had half a mind to tell him to it was no concern of his and throw him out. But she also was tired of eluding the issue. Severus was no more her first choice confident than Luna, but he could turn out as helpful. Obviously, she had been happy at her perfect results, but as soon as she had read the article, she had realised she had been silly to obsess and worry so. She was left with a void where her determination had been_. What should I do next?_ _What does the future hold in store for me?_ She scolded herself for sounding like Trelawney. Usually, she would have sent a letter to her parents. It would have made her results real in her mind. And academic achievement was a notion they still had in common. It tied them together. But she could not send an owl to them. They were untraceable for anyone but her, and she was not sure her spellwork would work without Severus because she needed the blood link. She breathlessly told him what she had done. He could not understand why she was so conflicted. She had taken matters into her own hands, performed complicated charms, and probably saved their lives. He just chalked it down to a guilt compulsion.

She then explained what needed to be done to find them and bring them back. Severus reflected that they would not have time to do it before the exam weeks in August. They had to wait for the Aurors to capture the rest of Voldemort's confirmed supporters, to make sure her parents would not come back to get killed. Moreover, they had to wait for his legal situation to clear up, and get their papers in order to go to Australia, depending on their means of travel. It would take careful planning. Luckily, they might be back in their bodies by that time. He would not mind skipping that chore. Although, her family was much different than his, he could appreciate her situation, mostly because her body was forcing him to experience her pangs of pain and joy. He resigned himself to help, out of a new peculiar habit to care. _Damn soul exchange._ He told her he would accompany her, in very disgruntled manner. She relaxed, although regretting they could not go right away. Opening her box she made it play her favourite nocturne, by a French composer.

"Are you an Anima-ouch! What was that?" She repeatedly hit her chest with her fist, trying to spread and alleviate the pain, before she realised it was all in his head. They stared at each other, his mouth inflexibly shut. Moving on, she decided on a productive distraction. "Well, I am going to burn some petals. Feel free to stay if you want." She Transfigured a glass into an inflammable cone, grabbed a few of the petals, which he advised her to tear in several pieces before dropping them in. The smell of the grey smoke was overpowering and before long she crumbled on some cushions spread around the carved coffee table on which they had eaten. Not one to waste, Severus swiftly kept the cone from having the same fate. He lounged on the hammock, quickly plunging a dainty nose in the cone to catch the last fumes. He anxiously awaited the vision that might not come.

As she slowly fell, Hermione blacked out. It was peaceful: no worries, no sounds, no lights, and no thoughts. Then, the sensations dazed her. She was not surprised to become an otter. Her fur sported many chocolate and autumn foliage nuances. She was gracefully swimming in all directions, rejoicing in the loving caress of the water enveloping her. Her paws and tails were powerful and her movements fluid and confident. Her form illustrated her curious and affectionate nature. She really wanted to find someone to play and cuddle with. She would later learn that those sensations greatly facilitated the transformation process. It was like accomplishing half the task effortlessly. That meant that she could become one rapidly, even though she really had no time to spare. She just could not resist a learning opportunity, but she would have to wait. It would be irresponsible to Transfigure herself from inside that body. Still, that was a lovely preview. That made her wonder what form her friends would take. When she had thought about Severus', she only saw pain, which made her even more curious.

In the darkness, Severus sensed he was in the eye of a cyclone. His legs had sunk in some kind of mud or quick-sand. It was the only reason he had not been blasted away. Aware this was not his usual reality, he determined this represented his conflict about accepting who he was inside. It did not make it easier for him to change his views. He waited for what seemed like an eternity. He waited for something to happen. But nothing changed, and ultimately his desire to know overcame his fear. He had faced worst dangers, hadn't he? Little by little, the wind became less violent, wet, and cold. A dim light appeared to his side, and he had some leeway to turn its way. He hesitantly crawled towards it. Slowly standing up, his legs were so heavy. Getting close enough to the light source to examine it but far enough to avoid an attack, he looked down on the light which was gradually fading. His Adam's apple rose and fell with difficulty. So, his inner self was still his old self. That was reassuring and it helped him face the small creature which seemed to be illuminated from the inside.

Standing on its hind paws, an ink black porcupine with a creamy belly was trying to get eye contact. There it was. No more mystery. He had nothing to do with the Cervidae family. He was not majestic, nor superb. He was just a minor mammal which was really skilled at repealing undesirables. As if sensing his disappointment, the creature emitted a wounded cry and lowered itself onto the ground and rolled itself into a desolate sleeping position. Severus' body sunk even lower than before in the ground. Only his upper body was visible. The terrible thing was that he was not even surprised. This was just confirming his suspicion. Disgusted by this derisible turn of event, he was about to scream his way into consciousness, when he felt a shadow move from behind him. Dumbfounded, he helplessly witnessed a confident Hermione ignoring him in order to directly walk towards the porcupine. She grinned at his endearing posture. To her, he appeared the very picture of sensitivity. Kneeling besides it, she stretched her arm towards it. Its back shifted in a blur, as she touched it. With a yelp, she retracted her hand. A quill was deeply implanted in her index finger. With a frown, she extracted it and sucked on the wound. After examining the quill inquisitively, she seemed to extract some of the darkness around them, and used it to write runes around the wound, which healed rapidly. After that, she simply used it to hold her hair in a messy bun. To his disbelief, she daringly seized his animal form from underneath where there were no quills, and it was as soft a porcupet (the hardness being acquired in the process of growing up). She laid it on her lap, and petted it where she could, appearing to enjoy the closeness regardless of the danger. Severus felt strangely drawn to his Animagus form. It was as though it was forgiving him for his dismissal. Or perhaps he was growing more accepting of whom he was. The next thing he knew, he was the porcupine: hurt, tentative, lonely, discerning, protected, and nevertheless appreciated by someone. He guiltily attempted to lick her hand, whatever she was. Sensing movement, he tensed, although careful not to completely raise his quills. But it was only the gentle tremor of her laughter which reassured him into a peaceful sleep.

In the morning, when he took in his surroundings, he thought he might have to assuage Minerva again. Suddenly, his dream sequence came back to him. Why had his subconscious taken her form? Maybe, it was due to the fact that she was the closest person to him at this point. What a depressing thought, perhaps even more depressing than the state of things before he almost died. Still, he felt calmer than usual when considering his Animagus form. So what if deep inside he was not magnificent? At least, he was still dangerous and self-sufficient. And apparently some people did not mind porcupines. But, his Patronus would remain a testament to his link to Lily; he would make sure of it. As he was getting into a sitting position, he had half a mind to test that theory but decided to wait and experiment with Hermione. _Speaking of whom, where is she?_ His eyes fell on a note.

"Good morning,

Thank you for yesterday. I tried to wake you up, but I guess the vision took a lot out of you too. I am going to breakfast. The others are coming back this afternoon, so I thought we should follow Minerva's advice and study together in the Library. I still have not found anything useful. And I can't believe I am going to teach tomorrow!

See you soon,

Hermione"

She was still thinking like a student and was awfully familiar, but he did not really mind. It was actually lunch time so he got ready, went to the Great Hall, sat beside her and baited her into a discussion about pedagogical techniques that threatened to make her break character. He then quickly claimed to have the sudden urge to go to the Library. She gallantly proposed to escort him. He smiled wildly at her to counteract the dumbfounded looks around them. They would get over it. Madame Pince was still eating but as teachers, they had a special pass. But they knew she would not leave them unattended with her precious books for too long. While they were still alone, Hermione excitedly told him about her night visions, hoping against all odds he would volunteer information in return. Once again, he was a little envious of her easy life, but at least, she was not a lioness. It was quite a boring animal really. _Serves her right!_ After his nice dream and knowing he could make her feel guilty about her parents if she disrespected him, he gave in to a daring impulse and shared the name of his animal self. He thought it would be a good way to test people's reactions.

She exclaimed, "Awww, that's so cute!" Seeing his expression, she added, "And hostile. I mean tough."

She squirmed under his glare. "Oh come on, it is just one opinion. Why do you take it so seriously?"

_Perhaps because it feels too close to the truth. _Plus, it reminded him of the Hermione of his vision. "Perhaps because you just called me cute."

She stubbornly went on "Well, maybe it is because of your current appearance and my own narcissism, or maybe a part of you is. It is just an aspect of an animal subjectively perceived. Anyway, you obviously chose to keep that part of you well hidden." She did not mention the fact that his determination to hide his soft side under a very mean exterior was very sweet.

Severus had almost felt giddy when she had not laughed at him. So he decided to cut her some slack. "Let us move on, shall we?" Surprised by his sudden lenience, she decided not to push her luck. She took her lesson plan out of her pocket, and resized it. They also selected books on life-saving magic and soul exchanges. But they had already perused through most of them and had come up with pretty much nothing. Soul exchanges, which were rare occurrences, were apparently not documented much. It was mostly due to the reluctance people had to disclose such intimate matters, often born in illegal circumstances. Moreover, it sometimes happened that extremely strong attachments could lead to light forms of soul exchanges, and those were even harder to document. With all that she knew about Harry's situation, her own, and the Horcruxes, Hermione could be considered an expert compared to the rest of the information available.

After many days of work, Severus had established that the contents of the notebook would only reveal itself in the presence of two people. His intricate work on the laborious interpretation was mostly guess work based on a great knowledge of many branches of magic. But it did not take a genius to understand it should be the creators' presence. The good news was that only their bodies and no passwords were needed. The bad news was that according to the records checked by a reliable contact, at least one body was unusable. Consequently, Severus already knew he would have to visit Janus during one of his Gringotts service days. And he was not looking forward to it. At least he would be getting back into the familiarity of teaching, but dreaded having to be tolerant of incompetents. Well, if the students thought their so-called friend would go easy on them, they had another thing coming. If they complained, he would blame it on the pressure and Hermione's natural bossiness gone bad. He surreptitiously took out a book to brush up on the Transfiguration requirements to graduate. _How kind of Minerva to add to my workload._

On her part, Hermione grabbed a mammals index. The advantage with the magical ones was extensive animated photo galleries. She would look it up before dinner. They worked in a companionable silence for hours. Nobody was around, so it did not serve their purpose of showing off their proper relationship. But since she was not bugging him, he unexpectedly found the prospect of being seen in relative good company, pleasant.

So why was he getting that bizarre feeling in his stomach? _Oh no, am I developing feelings for her? _He begged whatever power that would listen to him to stop this nonsense. He would die before he let himself get into another hopeless love situation, or worse, love triangle. The stirring inside was getting stronger. He glanced at her, and she was staring at pictures of porcupines and otters! And he was close to checking her fingers for a porcupine inflicted wound. _What is happening to us?_ The sound of screeching as he tried to put some distance between his chair and the table in protest made her look up. She knew that posture. She stood up and walked to him. He seemed scared of her, somehow. Kneeling so their heads would be on the same level, she inhaled deeply the familiar smell that usually incommoded her but then missed dearly. She whispered, "Don't worry. You are just having your periods. Thankfully, they are usually only uncomfortable on the first day or so. You should go to your room, use, ahem, sanitary products, lie down, and put a warm bottle on your stomach." Although she used to find the idea humorous, she only felt compassion and envy. It was her natural cycle! She knew the scene might appear creepy, but it did not keep her from putting her hand on her real stomach. Severus moaned his relief. He had been reacting completely irrationally. Nonetheless, the warm hand and caring tone really helped.

'Oi! What's going on here?" That was Ron.

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Wouldn't you like to know? ;)

"I was blizzard blind

Felt like I'd lost me mind

But you've treated me so kind

I don't know what to do"

Hail to Zarathustra46, the Beta Queen!

Once again, the Three Graces (bluefirefly5, violet1994, and Luna de Papel) came through. Here is a gift basket to each and every one of you!

It was a tough choice to make, but I dedicate this chapter to bluefirefly5, for a more encompassing review.

Answers/Reactions to some of your queries:

-The choosing of new wands was a big hit. If they ever get their bodies back, they will keep their current wands, which are attuned to their magic and personalities.

-Everyone is so quick to push Lavender and Ron together. I wonder why…. ;)

-But it seems not one cares about what happens to the Longbottoms. Interesting…

-I don't think you will have to wait much longer to witness Ron try to "know" Hermione, in the sense of a certain book.

-So, we all want Hermione and Severus to stay the way they are and get much closer. But how much closer can they get before reaching the point of no return?

-If I make you "fangirl", I consider my mission accomplished. ;D

Until next time, take care and be good, like I know you can.


	14. A Beautiful Friendship

**Chapter 14: A Beautiful Friendship (Esther Phillips)**

He had come down from the Gryffindor tower to find her. And he knew her well enough to know where to search.

Hermione stood up and scowled at him. "Miss Granger was simply experiencing some discomfort and I was trying to convince her not to over extenuate herself before her first day as a teacher."

"Since when do you care?" _And why were you touching her?_ But the idea was too gross to mention out loud.

_Think fast Hermione!_ "Not that I have to explain myself to you, Mister Weasley, but the Headmistress imposed her training as a teacher on me and would blame me if her wellbeing were compromised." She looked insistently at Severus who finally stepped in.

"Yes, well, thank you Professor. Have a nice evening. Come with me, Ron, I will show you my new quarters. Where is Harry?"

It was strange to want to hug her friend and be glad not to have deal with his temper. She understood how it looked but imagining something romantic happening between Severus and her was ludicrous. They were hardly close, apart from the occasional semi-nude contacts. She hoped Severus would not use her female monthly visitors as an excuse to get rid of him. She had kept it private even when they had lived together in the tent . What if they kissed? What if he were terrible at it? What if he were better than her? The potential disasters scared her so much that she stopped herself from searching his memories, even if furtive images proved he had kissed before. _I don't want to know! I should justgo to the Great Hall. Maybe, I'll succeed in avoiding most of the students. There you go! Way to be in character._

Severus was trying to calm down the boy without hexing him. He figured holding his hand to guide him through the corridors would help making him feel appreciated. Ron was actually fuming silently and Severus just wanted to yell at him to get over it. It was not as if his insides were melting. He did not want to have periods and deal with jealous boyfriends. This was ridiculous. He decided to bring Ron's focus back on his own problems by checking if he were unharmed. Having cleared him, Severus congratulated him with a quick hug in the corridor (_disgusting!_), and inquired about what Harry and he had been up to.

By the time they had arrived to her quarters, he seemed to have forgotten about his jealousy. He was impressed. Severus knew he was getting dangerously close to a stupid blabbermouth when he boasted about the sauna and saw the glint in Ron's eyes. Feeling close to spewing, he had a stroke of genius and told him to get to his kitchen and help himself. Finally, he could deal with the damages. In the bathroom he dug into the feminine mystery. Avoiding looking at what he did not want to see, he caught up with Hermione's usual method of dealing with the affliction, Transfigured a towel in a pad, and another one in a hot water bottle. He dismissed Ron by saying he had a stomach ache and they would see each other the following day. Trying to be thoughtful, he thanked him for the earrings. As Severus was almost pushing him towards the door, Ron moved in closer for a kiss. Severus panicked "I am sorry, my breath is terrible. Hmmm, another time?"

Looking hurt, a little suspicious, and also triumphant for some reason, he replied "Sure, feel better… I'll give your thanks to Harry. Goodnight."

Severus let out a breath of relief. He decided to send a message so Hermione would not ask any question and he would not have to repeat the breath comment. "It went fine. I sent him away quickly. No intimacy breach." She did not answer, so he lay on his bed, took off all his clothing for he was too hot, but still kept using the soothing bottle. It was madness. Needless to say, he turned over a lot, and slept for fewer hours than he was used to. He spent a lot of time going over his classes, reminding himself to be more engaging. Before finally falling asleep, he wondered for the first time how it had been for Lily, when she had "become a woman" and bled. Had it hurt? Had she been frightened? He simply could not view her like any other woman. It was wrong. She was different. _She was not that real, no, ordinary, I meant ordinary._

The next morning, he decided to lie in the tub, and let the water relax him. Acutely aware of the fresh porcelain against his skin and the scalding hot water, he worried less about the throbbing within. There were some myths about women's periods. But it was a phenomenon men were not privy to and avoided as much as possible. Furthermore, Severus had been growing up at a time when intimate issues were supposed stay private. It was a question of decorum. So, that was it, wasn't it? It was a very peculiar feeling. Had he thought about it, he would have considered the experience less powerful than expected. He did not feel connected to a transcendent femininity, but he did find it interesting to think he experienced the same thing as many women, and that it meant he could technically carry a child to life, not that he ever wanted to. Still, that was a mind-boggling concept. He inquisitively looked between his female legs and for the first time really beheld its mystery, forgetting whom they belonged to. What a strange experience, indeed… He separated the layers with tentative fingers, and then looked further down. He was almost morbidly enraptured by the deeply red streaks flowing down the milky thighs onto the shinning porcelain, and being washed away by the water. Thanks to Hermione, he knew the blood clots were benign.

He knew blood, and had spilled it countless of times. However, this was different. But he still did not care for the smell. That woke him up from his daze. It was all well and good, but it was time to move on. He felt better than the previous day. But that first-hand knowledge would compel him to carry potions to help the girls in his class suffering from this impediment. And it would not even seem strange coming from Hermione. Thinking of the day ahead, he willed himself to tone down his profound familiarity with the Dark Arts, and his vengeful attitude towards the students. His schedule was similar to Hermione's: four classes a week plus a day spent in his office for private tutoring with students needing help. All the students were required to come to every teacher, at least once, and could also discuss their future with them. Severus hated to advise the students who were probably headed to a better future than he. But, as usual, he would do what needed to be done and he would do it well. The teachers had to create and correct a mock-up exam at the beginning of August.

Hermione was the only one who would be involved in the final examination. She had the brilliant idea to openly point out to Minerva the obsolescence of the Muggle Studies curriculum, even before Muggle Hating 101. Charity Burbage had been a dedicated teacher who had met a terrible end that still perturbed Severus, but had not been enough of a visionary. Hermione had to satisfy the requirements of the old curriculum, but could add her own topics and methods. Moreover, she was adamant that part of the examination had to happen in the Muggle world, with the student accomplishing random tasks. So, at the end of August, the students would take the Hogwarts Express and spend one day performing those tasks. With his luck, Severus would probably end up chaperoning that event after getting back into his body. For the time being, he had also set up his new hours with the goblins and had already decided to use that excuse to go to London and get information from his most dangerous informant. He had already put that off for too long, even if he had obtained his current address at no cheap cost.

Hermione was eager to educate her old peers, even if she was a little apprehensive. Apart from the pressure put on her by Severus and herself, it was also possible she was trying to compensate for not keeping enough ties with the Muggle world. She had compiled the basic knowledge the students needed to have to pass the exams and had created handbooks with tests the students had to fill in every week, they had to keep at it until they got zero wrong answers. It also recorded the time spent studying the handbook, thus creating more rumours on Severus' mind-reading abilities when she called the students out on it. Ron was one of the first students she tried to educate on the evils of procrastination. Apparently, the power of fear worked better on him than overbearing affection. He did seem more focused. She had been favourably surprised by Minerva's decision to continue making the class compulsory, on a trial basis. But passing the exam was not mandatory that summer.

Hermione hoped to help her students overcome their prejudices by decreasing their ignorance, helped by Severus' charisma, and the students' curiosity about their teacher's unexpected versatility. Each of her lessons had three parts.

Firstly, she lectured them on the curriculum and practical elements of living among Muggles. Secondly, to their surprise, she got them to play-act situations, like getting the necessary papers for travel, or using money, or dressing up inconspicuously. Compared to their elders, her students were more used to wearing pants. After a little uneasiness, the students began enjoying themselves and learning through trial and errors. She mocked them when they were blatantly inept and obtuse. But she limited the verbal abuse to a minimum. She tried to dilute the oppressive atmosphere Severus created in his classrooms while still maintaining her authority. Oh, it would be so much easier to do if she could tell them the truth, but if she did that she would not be able to beneficiate of that aura of experience. Nevertheless, she created an openness never experienced in his classroom. Even though he might disapprove, she felt her work was more important than maintaining an ogre persona. She was more Minerva-like. And if the students ever tried to disrespect her, she still had his body which was much more conducive to Wandless magic than her own.

At any rate, she was most fervent about the third part of the class. She put on a show of creating the illusion of a safety and sincerity circle so that the students would participate in the debates. It would clean up the air and hopefully change misconceptions. The subjects were varied and often controversial: "The Real Difference(s) Between Muggles and Wizards", "Wizards' Superiority", The Origins of Magic", "Science, Magic, or Nature", "Comparison Between the Advantages of the Muggle and the Wizarding Worlds", "Relationships Between Magical People and Muggles", "Squibs and Muggles", "Muggle Arts as a Form of Magic", "New Technologies and Magical Evolutions", "Muggle and Wizarding Lore", "Muggle's Views of Magic, and the Reverse", and so on. She exploited the debates as a way to impart knowledge on them.

During one of the first debates, several students, not all pure-bloods, revealed an unwitting deep-seeded belief in Muggles' inferiority. A few appeared to have had an epiphany during her class, many others were simply more aware because of the war. But it would take much time and will to change their opinions. She asked them to write short essays about their opinions prior to and after the debate of the day, and have it in her message box by her office before the end of the week. When they talked about art and entertainment, some students become so fascinated that they decided to set up a Muggle Cultures Club in September. The notion of the Internet was unbelievable to many, so they were encouraged to try it out whenever they could. Overall, she felt great about her work, even though she got annoyed by some of the students' dismissiveness of her subject, even after all the recent events.

She got better over time at ignoring her desire to sit with her friends and be herself. Harry was respectful yet apprehensive of committing a faux pas, but he looked happier than a few weeks earlier._ Did he have sex already?_ How did it go? What did it mean to and about him? How should she act in front of him now that she knew? She shook her head when remembering who she was to him. Still, the mere idea of him having sex made her a little proud and happy, but most of all it worried her. She was also a little jealous. With all of his issues, it was easier for him, for men. And now that she was almost all male, it did not feel easier.

Speaking of potential sex partners, Ron acted a bit suspicious towards her. But after a while, he came up to her to find information on Muggle business ventures and Marketing successes. She guessed he had recognised the higher potential for profit with much more targets. Proud he was channelling his father's enthusiasm; she gave him extremely useful advice, after researching the subject for him instead of just pointing the way. Still, she was getting better at letting him work by himself without feeling invested in his potential failure due to procrastination. It was strange to feel attracted and repelled by him at the same time. She hoped Severus was not pushing him too far away. During meals, neither of them looked very affectionate. Harry was still on a break with Ginny, but they were talking animatedly.

Severus' classes settled like clockwork. The Gryffindors were used to getting information and tutoring from Hermione, the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs seemed to admire and even like their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Most of them were just glad to be rid of evil teachers. _If only they knew._ The Slytherins were uncertain of their place, and seemed quite miserable. He would have to get Hermione to talk to Slughorn about them. He had mixed feelings towards them and what they represented, but he knew damage control was necessary. At least, the tables in the Great Hall were not organized by Houses anymore, and sitting arrangements were somewhat loose. He decided to pair off separate Houses together. He made speeches on School unity to explain that choice, and added he would be most disappointed in them if they were not tolerant of each other. Many students were happy to learn from him, not because they wanted to avoid punishment, but because they respected Hermione. They were supportive of their ex-companion-in-arms. How different it was to inspire good-will… His first students had been more difficult to tame. Regardless, he would use whatever tool he had to force knowledge into their addled brains. He had to change his usual take on the subject. They had encountered some of the Dark Arts, and lived to tell the tale. It would not do to treat them exactly like children. He focused his classes on silent and Wandless magic, and for the last part of his lesson plan, he would explore the wondrous world of mixed magic, like tattooing runes on one's body to increase one's potency. That was for the most advanced classes, and he was really looking forward to lecturing on it. But he knew most students would only frivolously be thinking about it as a means to pass an exam, and he felt he was putting pearls before Doxies. Despite their differences, Severus and Hermione agreed on the fact that the Dark Arts and other types of magic were just two faces of the same Galleon. So he stressed that nuance to avoid making his students believe Hermione revered the Dark Arts, which incidentally made him comprehend how the students came to believe that about him.

He only had three problem students, and none of them were Slytherins. Draco himself, had once hung around to talk to him after class, thus attracting the attention of his new self-appointed bodyguards. Resisting rolling his eyes at them, he listened to Draco's apologies. Unexpectedly, Harry and Ron were the first ones to agree to a truce. Harry was sick of fighting and hating, and Ron followed Harry's lead. But they both made it clear that it would be a long way before forgiveness and real trust. Draco would have to prove himself worthy. Severus, who had spent the past few weeks using his Legilimency training to sort through Hermione's memories and adapt his behaviour, looked into Draco's eyes to test his honesty. Hermione's answer through the bracelet was to accept if he were sincere and willing to change his view on Muggle-borns but to urge him to clean up his act, and to remind him that she still had to carry the memory of her time at Malfoy Manor. It had been an awkward moment, but Severus had used the occasion to encourage the young Malfoy on the road to redemption. After all, it had worked out so well for him.

Luna Lovegood was doing well in his classes, although her results were inconsistent. But she had a way of looking at him that made him uncomfortable. After all, she knew who he was and witnessed his fake amiability. She was judging him that was for certain. She did not reveal the travesty to anyone else. But sometimes, she quirked her head and considered her classmates, as if in incredulity at their blindness. On top of all of that, he kept thinking about their little "heart-to-heart". And he was certain she was thinking about it too. In short, she disturbed him.

Another girl was putting him on edge. Lavender Brown had returned and was much more downcast than before, as anticipated. Many students now avoided her because of her chilling disposition instead of her past forceful behaviour. He was of course repulsed by the slight werewolf contamination, but did not show it because even he realised she was not responsible for it. He treated her as fairly as he did the others. But apparently she was still upset over Hermione winning Ron over. _What did that boy do to deserve such frenzy?_ He could not fathom the workings of lovesick girls. And that one's eyes spoke of her resentment. And if it were not because of Ron, the only reason he could see was that she hated Hermione for saving her and condemning her to a spoiled life. But that would be crazy, wouldn't it?

Startlingly, his third problem student was one of Hermione's supposed best friends. Ron kept giving him looks during classes, and sometimes stared dreamingly at the teacher's desk. When he caught him, Severus had to cover up involuntary shudders. So, he took great pleasure in reproaching for him his lack of attention, and receiving sheepish looks. But he was still too pleased by the reprimands.

As it would turn out, the differences between their schedules led him to go to Gringotts at a different time than both of them. They were spending less and less time together, which suited him well. He still wondered why Hermione, Harry, and Ron were friends. He knew her intellect and caring personality attached them to her. But however deep he looked, he could not see what she found in them. If she were that calculating, he would say she wanted to benefit from closeness with pureblood and famous people, like Viktor Krum. With her close acquaintances being male, he could see how Rita Skeeter had succeeded in representing her as some kind of a celebrity chaser. But it was simply not true. She chose the underdogs. She seemed content to have won them over. Maybe she just liked the challenge. If Draco had been more accommodating, their group could have been a quartet.

What a waste of time! Why did he care? He should not. He did not. But seriously, their conversations were insipid. It was one of the reasons why he would rather stay silent than to participate. He felt as though he were forced to drink a mouth numbing potion when he did. Being part of a friendly group was not worth the nuisance. Moreover, Ron had become more daring. He had come for his appointment in his office with what was intended to be a winning smile. He approached Severus with swagger and sat on his desk.

Frowning and breathing more rapidly with anxiety, Severus asked "So, is there something you wanted to talk about?" Ron leered at him and grabbed his girlfriend's hand and held to his mouth. Severus thought he felt tongue on top the saliva. His limbs got limp. This was another type of danger altogether. He did not intend on jeopardizing Hermione's relationship with Ron but there was no way he would put up with that kind of treatment. They would get Luna or even Narcissa to reveal what had happened to the boys and make them understand why they could not answer their questions. But at the thought of potential disclosure, he felt his limbs tense. Ron seemed to take his body's reactions as encouragement. He produced a beautiful bouquet of roses which he put on the desk. Kneeling in front of him, he crooned "We've not been able to be together for so long, and I've missed you so much. I want to prove to you how special you are to me. I want to give myself to you, body and soul_."_

_You don't know what you are talking about, you sentimental buffoon_. _Oh, I am going to hurl_!

Ron put the hand he was still holding on top of his heart, which brought a sitting Severus dangerously close and pursed his lips and leaned in after whispering "My dear teacher, I want us to be closer, much closer…" At that point Severus' mind figuratively split from his body. He had seen that scenario unfold before. Where was it? He was not into romance novels but this line of thought was getting close, he just knew it.

As he was picking one of the "10 Hexes Witches Should Know" from a magazine he had once confiscated and glanced over out of curiosity and boredom, it came back to him. He was using "Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches" on him! That book and its updates had always been a big hit with horny boys. But it was as idiotic as those magazines he had confiscated. It was infuriating to be thought of so easy to win over with cheap tricks! Unimaginative prannet! He figured the reason why he was so mad was that Hermione would be too. He had not known her for long, but her body was clearly revolted. How shameful of her to have been fooled by his sudden transformation into a more attentive boyfriend! He would enjoy revealing it to her. He hit Ron with a minor hex which left him confused, propelled on his rump.

"Ronald Weasley, I can't believe you are using direct quotes from that offensive book for illicit activities on top of a teacher's desk! Not only are you insulting my intelligence, but you are disrespecting me as an educator by using official work time for some perverted sex game. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Ron was noticeably ashamed of having been found out. Even so, he sputtered, "I don't see what the big deal is! I should think that you of all people wouldn't get on my case for using books to better myself. And I don't think I'm doing anything wrong by wanting to kiss my girlfriend. You certainly didn't mind being physical a few weeks ago. But these days, the only alone time I get with you is during your office hours." He certainly had bottled up many grievances, because he went on and on. "In fact, you've been avoiding me since you rescued Snape. The only time you've seemed to show interest was when I-I –er - hurt myself. How messed up is that? You've talked to Bill without telling me. You spend way too much time with Snape, as if you enjoy the company of that sick git who has lusted after Harry's dead mum and has mistreated us forever! How can you care about him more than I?" "_Than me_", thought Severus through his rage at the ungrateful brat's assumptions. _How dare he?_ But Ron was not done. "You've secrets with Harry. And I heard ghosts say you've even taken a fancy in hanging out with Filch, of all people! What's next, you getting married to Vicky?"

By that point, Ron had stood up and was towering over Severus, which Severus did not like one bit. He was getting irritated on Hermione's behalf. And that in itself infuriated him. This was all a big misunderstanding and really it was nobody's fault but Ron's reaction caused Severus to lash out at him, regardless of the consequences on the young couple's future. He stood up as well and punctuated his words by repeatedly stabbing Ron's broad chest with an angry fist.

"You're being completely irrational! How can you not trust me? How can you even think I would cheat on you? If memory serves, I'm not the one who is prone to abandon the ones I claim to love. If you had half a brain, you'd see that your worries are absolutely ludicrous. How could you imagine me romantically involved with any of those men? And concerning Professor Snape, why should I not want the company of someone who doesn't talk all the time about gossips, Quidditch, or the joys of becoming an Auror?"

Effectively putting the desk between the two of them, Ron massaged his mistreated chest and asked something he had wondered about for a long time. "Well, why would you want to be with someone you find so dull?"

Alarmed by his defeated tone, Severus regained his composure. He held on to the desk to resist trying to knock some sense into him. "You're missing my point. I care for you and enjoy spending time with you but it doesn't mean I can't have other friends. And since you put my interactions with men on the spot, can you tell me what is going on between you and Lavender, lately?"

It was Ron's turn of feeling insulted by the insinuation that he would cheat on his girlfriend. "There's nothing between us. I'm just to trying to make amends for the way I treated her. In case you haven't noticed, she needs support right now. And you know what? Even if she is angry at me, she still makes me feel needed." Tired of playing the supporting role in the usual "Ron and Hermione scene", he held out his hands and decided to stop the play. "I can't do this anymore, Hermione. I don't want to constantly fight. I don't want you to make me feel inadequate because I don't live up to your expectations. I mean, the only times you were affectionate were linked to life-threatening situations, like the thing with the house-elves. It's like I'm not good enough for you. And it's normal to want to have sex with your girlfriend. If you don't want to be close to me now, why be together at all?"

_Oh, this is not good. It definitely sounds like a break-up. _Nothing short of a snog would make him reconsider, and Severus would rather face Nagini again.

"I don't think you're not good enough, Ron. I-I just think you could do so much better. And, I do love you." _Ugh, why?_ "But I am not ready for physical intimacy. You shouldn't pressure me."

"I'm not, but what about my needs? I feel like I'm going crazy over here."

"Can't you be reasonable for once in your life? You are not a slave to your urges."

But before Ron could retort, Severus thanked his new-born lucky star for the imperious knock on the door. After a quick look at the other's rubicund face, he muttered "Compose yourself." In the meantime, Minerva's voice commanded him to open the door. He obeyed.

Her lips were pinched in a very narrow line.

"Mister Weasley, Professor Granger, I hope you realise people can hear you from the corridor. I am here because I wanted to ask you both to put your relationship on hold until the exams, although it seems quite unnecessary now. Nevertheless, I am sorry to impose this rule on you but students-teachers romantic affairs are forbidden for ethical reasons. Although I realise your circumstances are unusual, I wish you would consider the School's reputation and your futures. It does not mean you cannot be friendly around each other anymore. But as a teacher, Hermione, you need to show complete fairness, even though past experiences seem to contradict that statement."

Severus knew which teacher she was especially referring to, but noted the point of humour in her voice which placated him.

Ron was examining him, clearly ashamed of his outburst. He declared coldly "You are right, Professor. I think a temporary break is just what we need."

He looked pointedly at Severus whose silence he took as consent. But, then again what was he supposed to say? A temporary break suited him perfectly, but he also knew Ron was testing him. What would Hermione want? He had not had time to use the bracelet.

"Can we talk about this later, Ron?" he almost pleaded.

With a pained look, Ron replied that he needed time to sort things out, and left.

* * *

During the weekend, he would have a long talk with Madam Rosmerta about life, love, and business. The same night, they would end up sharing intense moments of sensual discovery for him, and much needed tension release for both. She would later on look back fondly on her expert participation to the sexual education of a young, tentative but earnest hero whose kind family had suffered too much. She had fulfilled that role for many of the Weasley men, who were decent and diverse individuals. Although, their time together had not been all that magical, Ron would feel like a weight had been lifted. He had been consumed by curiosity and had desperately wanted to feel desired. Now that the deed was done, he was looking forward to many repeat performances. When thinking of Hermione, he would feel a stab of guilt, but they were on a break of her own making. She could not expect him to wait for her forever and pass up golden opportunities like these. He did love her, but he could not imagine getting that kind of attention from her without grovelling, some kind of achievement, and possibly an impressive grade. Some people were just not the sexual type. It was nothing to be ashamed of.

He had spent most of his youth trying to survive, help his friends, and finish his homework. He had lost his brother. If there were something he knew it was that life was short, and that he should enjoy it while he could. And it was with a newfound confidence that he returned to the Castle. Some people did want him for himself. He did not always come last.

* * *

At any rate, Minerva gave Severus a sympathetic nod and left him to reflect on what just happened. He invited Hermione to his office, in which there was no portrait with the excuse of taking care of their "physical". As they were partly undressing, she was reflecting on the ease with which they had gotten used to the procedure. They were both practical enough not to feel abashed by the inevitable recurrence. After Transfiguring his quills into cushions, they sat down on the floor back to back, as usual. He seemed troubled but did not say anything while reading the results of his latest skill test sent by the goblins. His assignment would take place earlier that Saturday, which served his other purpose well. But soon enough, he began the tale of how her own recklessness had spread the seeds of distrust in her couple. Although he related the discussion rather honestly, he made sure to point out in every way possible that it was her and Ron's fault. He had just been a witness. She had reacted more calmly than he had anticipated. She was certainly used to her friends treating her callously then crawling back to her, with scant apologies, not that it was what he was doing.

Hermione was shocked everything had escalated so fast, but understood where everyone was coming from. Had she been in her body, she would probably have been sucked into reacting the usual way. Then, she would have cried over Ron's insensitivity or her fear of being unlikeable and unfeminine. And after weeks of avoidance and quarrels, they would make up. It was the same song and dance. She did not question it. For her, it was all part of being in a relationship. But she was affected by Severus' scepticism. She looked at their little group from the outside, and sometimes, images of fighting couples like the Weasleys, or Severus' own parents popped up and depressed her to no end, although she did not mention it to him. What did he know of relationships? _What about me?_ The first boy to really notice her had been Viktor. But she had not felt a profound attachment to him. They still were "quillpals". He had been worried about her, even though he had moved on after accepting she had chosen Ron.

She was also embarrassed textbook tricks had worked on her. Some people might find it funny for Hogwarts' resident bookworm to underestimate the powers of the written words. But for her, the most humiliating thing was the truth. She had been so desperate for shreds of regard, that she had welcomed his attentions, regardless of how random they were. She understood Ron's point of view. As for Severus, she could not really blame him. If he had a lady friend, which did not seem to be the case at the moment, she would be hard pressed to fake tenderness with her too. Hermione felt only sadness, loneliness and a little ennui. So, she poured her heart out to her snarky partner in deception. He listened, and to some degree empathized. To cheer her up, he reminded her that as long as they exchanged bodies as soon as possible, she could get her life back together. He only asked to be there when she told Ron he had put on the moves on his favourite Potions teacher. Hermione let out a small laugh. That could be arranged.

Still, she did not know how to feel about getting back with Ron. First and foremost, she did not know if she could be satisfied with constantly reassuring him of his worth, dealing with his insecurities, and possibly tone down her own achievements. He was ambitious, but to him, it was more about monetary gain. And he usually complained more than he did anything to change the situation. Although, he was currently working on a project, she knew that much. Her more pressing problem was his lusting after her. She had many fantasies, and looked forward to experiencing carnal delights, but apart from her current situation, something else was holding her back. She knew it had something to do with how she perceived romance and sex based on books and observations, and the way she viewed Ron.

After Harry's talk with Severus, Hermione had wondered if Ron felt the same urge. It may seem cold of her, but she would rather he go elsewhere than to force herself. But if he did, would that mean he did not care about her enough to wait? Yet, was it not better to be with someone proficient in that area? Objectively, she thought so. Inadvertently, she fixated on the soft skin against her back. She too wanted to be caressed! So much, it was almost painful. Troubled, she decided to call it a day and wished Severus a good weekend with the Curse-Breakers. Her articulations complained loudly at the sudden movement. Severus cringed. Turning around to look at her as she was putting on her robe, he felt compelled to offer her to use his sauna once while he was away. Pleasantly astounded, she readily accepted. That did not make up for a potentially ruined relationship, but it might soothe her, somehow.

The day after, Severus decided to ignore the boys' pointed looks, and other students' whispers. Following Hermione's advice, he wore the Time-Turner earrings. He took Ron aside after breakfast, which he still devoured without concern for propriety. Looking suitably crestfallen, he told Ron he accepted a temporary break-up, but made it clear he wanted it to be just that, temporary. They both assured the other of their continued fondness, and parted with relief. Their interactions remained a little stiff, but they were friendly enough for Severus' taste. They generally saw each other during classes. At first, Harry had visited his quarters, but as Ron was absent and their last private conversation was too fresh in their minds, the visits were cut short. Minerva's warning about fairness gave them an excuse to give each other some space. At last, Severus' life was getting less complicated and encumbered with relationships, yet not really more pleasant for it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"We've always been

Like sister and brother,

Until tonight,

When we looked at each other."

Zarathustra46, "I think this is the beginning of beautiful friendship." ;D

Last quotation: "And here's to you," Madam Rosmerta.

Dearest Three Graces, I feel you are my only readers and I cherish your inputs. If you go on like this, I might get 40 reviews by the end of this chapter. From what I hear, more people would read the story if it had more than 100 reviews (6360 views, so far, but I can never get enough of them, especially when they translate into reviews). I know, "greedy, greedy, greedy," right? Anyway, continue making me glow with creative energy!

Hah! I am so happy you liked Porcupine-Snape! It felt so right. And, I do enjoy knowing what lingers in your mind.

If other people were still confused, Hermione (with her soul in her body) would keep using the wand soaked in Dragon blood. It is almost as if she had a responsibility to keep the flame alive after she, in a way, helped extinguishing it when offering the dragon his freedom. Severus would keep the Phoenix one.

About the Longbottoms, I just meant that you all felt some kind of pity for Lavender or Ron, but none for them. I assume that it has to do with the fact that Joanne Kathleen Rowling did all the work on that one (and pretty much everything else, I own nothing but my mind, sort of), and it is old news. I just found it interesting that you did not react to that scene. It matters not, I will just use that opportunity to thank her for her wonderful stories which made our lives brighter.

…Sweet dreams…


	15. Witchcraft

**Chapter 15: Witchcraft (Frank Sinatra)**

On Saturday, Severus was mercifully periods-free. Usually, he enjoyed spending his weekends undisturbed in his quarters, but these days, solitude was a hard commodity to come by. But gladly leaving all the people dramas in the Castle, he went to work with the goblins.

After a first month of doing menial tasks chosen to punish them, the trio had been divided by abilities. Ron was working with investment advisers, Harry with defence spells specialists, and Severus had been assigned to work with Curse-Breakers. Despite the fact that it did not seem like something Hermione had natural abilities for, he found himself mildly curious of his next interaction with the curse-breaking crowd. He used to consider the monotony of his Hogwarts lifesatisfactorily safe. But almost dying made him more daring, and hungry for change. From some of Bill's stories he had once inattentively listened to, he knew the tasks were varied and required knowledge in many areas, the ability to think outside the box and discover new material. When he was done, although sore and sweaty, he was looking forward to the next job. He had increasingly faced more difficult responsibilities, and had been upgraded to assisting a seasoned team in a mission in Greece, the following day.

He had yet to try Apparating in that body but that evening would be the time to do it. Disillusioned, he left Diagon Alley with some Muggle money obtained at Gringotts'. Managing to slip through a turnstile, he took the Tube to Camden Town. He knew his robes might not get noticed there but he needed proper attire among Muggles and wizards. Although the clothes in the main Market were eccentric, they were not as edgy as they used to be. Under the heading that when you want to be incognito, you have to make yourself very visible, in a way, he thought they might do the trick while suiting his old-fashioned taste. He was not certain who was more susceptible to get attacked between Hermione and himself. But "they" would probably think the less experienced one would make an easier target. The most dangerous Death Eaters had been arrested or killed but you never knew when a closet fanatic might decide to strike. After making himself visible again, he bought and put on a gothic dress in leather and old lace with an antiquated corset, in black, for a change, and deep purple. His informant, although never directly present during the proceedings, had a way of disciplining those who were not dressed stylishly enough for his taste.

Severus put on Hermione's cape which he adapted to cover up the daring cleavage. All around the stalls, he was addressed with words like "lovely", "sweetie", or "beautiful". At first, he thought the vendors idiotic for thinking he could be swayed by pretending to find him attractive. But he did not protest when they proposed to lower their prices so that their products were put on a worthy pedestal. He knew how to barter, and it was only the beginning. He also bought a crucifix on a choker, black tights, and leather boots with large heels. It was cloudy that day, and the atmosphere felt a little stuffy; like there would be a storm before the end of the evening. That did not keep him from hiding his regular clothes in a Transfigured handbag, covering up because the male attention was starting to make him feel dirty, in a whole different way. Before he could get to a shop where he could buy makeup and get someone to apply it for him, he was violently pulled into a corner.

He was ready to hex to his attacker, when he realised two things. There were two people, a woman about Hermione's age wearing a gaudy glittery dress that clearly had fabric missing, and an older man, in shredded clothes with lame tattoos and incongruously-placed piercings and smelling rancid. And they were obviously Muggles. The man had grabbed the top of his cape and was pressing him against the wall. If they thought they could steal his money by intimidating him, they did not know Severus Snape. He sneered at his would-be robbers. He was about to deal with them when he caught the girl's hateful glare. It was dimly familiar.

"Told you it was Granger. That bushy-haired bitch! And still prancing around like she owns the world or something…" she spat. Without wondering any further, he used the _Confundus Charm_ on her and turned to her boyfriend in order to give him the same treatment, but not before the brute threw him a punch in the stomach. The pair drowsily walked away from the Market. As he waited for his breath to come back to him, he tried to place the girl but simply could not. That was when he learnt that a heightened sense of taste was nicely complemented with a higher susceptibility to pain. B_rilliant…_ He grunted. That was enough to attract the attention of an ugly passer-by who immediately made a pass at him. Severus was offended. Not only was he hurting but he was harassed by an insensitive philanderer. _If being fresh, young and attractive to some comes with constantly being considered a piece of meat, I will pass, thank you_. No, that was a might just use a repelling lotion, even though the smell was awful. He used the same technique on him as the other two, but had to bolt before all the magical activity drew attention. He thought of forgoing the makeup, but Hermione was apparently too recognisable. For good measure, he bought a straw-coloured wig and was soon made-up by a flirty but qualified enough man. All senses on alert, he followed the Regent's Canal until he arrived in Little Venice. The only problem had been another one of those blasted coffee lovers asking him out but he had been unceremoniously thrown in the water for his troubles.

When he was sure nobody was looking, Severus himself jumped in a special spot on the Canal. Transported into one of the quaint barges, he remained completely dry. The dark interior was a mixture of an antiquity shop and an attic full of memorabilia. Obviously, grabbing the wrong objects would lead to a painful death or at least a loss of limb, as talking to the _Inferius_ posing as a clerk would. Therefore, ignoring the chilling creature, he turned to the broken doll lying on the dusty floor in the furthest corner.

He calmly addressed her. "I am here for the Keeper of the most precious thing in the world."

The doll turned her lifeless eyes towards him. A velvety voice resonated inside the room.

"He has retired. You would do better to follow his example."

Ignoring the answer, as he should, he stated his query. "I need to find all the information available on Falcifer and Soteria Crownthorn and their daughter." Requesting too precise information could cost him his life since Janus considered a disgruntled customer a liability to his reputation. The silence following his request was unnerving for that very reason.

The voice austerely pronounced, "Proceed."

Severus looked around for the right artefact. His eyes fell upon something resembling a Native American dream catcher made from wire-like material. Things were about to get painful, not only physically, but mentally. In exchange for his services, Janus required a very special sort of non-refundable commodity. Indeed, one had to share a very unique experience and feeling. The process rendered the memory much less vibrant for the bearer. Voldemort was rumoured to have shared a memory in exchange for information. That was in fact true. He had spared the memory of creating a Horcrux. The price given had to really cost the client, to ensure they were not wasting Janus' time.

Severus weighted the importance of his defining moments versus the recent added value to his life. Although Janus was not to be trifled with, there was no way he would part from what had most value to him. His memories were pretty much all he had at that point. He decided to share his credence in his self-worth resulting from his acceptance into an elite group of Slytherins. Finding the place he deserved had been an illusion. So, he was glad to be rid of it. Still, it had meant a lot to him at the time. Severus' hand resignedly approached the item which sent him a teeth chattering blow. This was just not his day.

The voice notified him that that a half-hearted offer would not be accepted. So, he gave up being branded as a Death Eater. The rarity value alone should satisfy Janus, which it did. The wires transformed into tentacles which grabbed his hand and emitted a suction sound and with a rather anticlimactic small pressure on the back of his eyeballs, the deed was done. Just like that, that fateful moment became a hazy memory. Frankly, he was not as attached to that reminder of the errors of his ways since he had accomplished the mission commissioned by Albus and since the Mark had disappeared. He felt no regret at the loss. Did that mean he was ready to move on with his life? It used to be such an inconceivable notion…

The tentacles withdrew. The tribute collector loudly fell onto the floorboard and a murky marble rolled in Severus' direction and rebounded against his heel. Knowing what was to come, he bent over and picked up the object which sent him a jolt. The voice let out a chuckle. He pocketed it disdainfully. He enjoyed convoluted schemes as much as the next one, but those antics were tiresome. Going out though the door this time, he ended up in a deserted impasse. Breathing deeply, he took off the wig and Apparated without difficulties to Hogsmeade. Using the Hog's Head passageway, he arrived "home" without being noticed by anyone. He was exhausted and his stomach hurt. He told an elf to give notice of his arrival to the Headmistress and to bring back to his quarters a balm for his wound which would heal the superficial haematoma and signal any internal damage, which it would thankfully not. Putting aside the fact that he was getting tired of having to answer for his whereabouts, he summoned Hermione to his quarters. She had some answering of her own to do.

His instincts told him something had happened in his quarters. He could not tell what it was or how he knew. He just did. It was clear she had been there during his absence and had used his shower, although he technically only had allowed the use of his sauna. She looked a tad guilty and rosy-cheeked when she entered the room. Even as she greeted him, she did not look at him directly in the eyes. Wary of what he might discover, Severus decided to lull her in a false sense of security.

For once, he used his body to do it. He made her sit beside him on the sofa. At first, she was a little nervous, but soon enough, she had her elbows on her knees and her chin on top of her hands and her mind focused on the news he brought. He told her about his day, after reminding her to update her report. She was soon entranced by his trip and the kind of magic he had been exposed to, although, as a supposed beginner he had not been allowed to do much, but he might on Sunday in Greece. Then, he described to her his information gathering trip. She was such a fine audience that he elaborated about his informant, even though he kept silent on the ways to get there and ask for information. He did tell her of the rumours on Janus.

His storytelling abilities soon made her picture Janus' life as vividly if she had witnessed it herself. "Janus was a handsome young lad, and the heir of a great fortune. Magically gifted, he delighted in experimenting with edgier spells and potions. Jaded by his seemingly picture-perfect life, he was always pushing the limits. His last experiment was a search for some sort of Eternal Beauty Elixir. But it went awry." Severus inwardly scoffed, because he had decided a long time ago that this type of research was beneath him. Being a Potions Master, he estimated he had been careless, for all his genius. "It might have been a sabotage attempt. In any case, the cauldron exploded, and he was exposed to the unstable mixture. Luckily for him, it did work, to an extent." She unconsciously bent a little closer to him in anticipation.

As he was continuing the story, he nonchalantly began to pass his fingers through his currently well-groomed hair, sometimes grazing the back of her neck, all inadvertently of course. "He effectively remained the same age physically, but it came with a rotten caveat. And it was not his darkened skin due to the unfiltered exposure to solar extracts. His lasting beauty and youth came at the price of a stunted emotional growth. The way people adapt to experiences and learn from them is impossible for him. Knowledge he can get, but his frame of mind is rather underdeveloped. As a result from that accident, he set up one of the best information networks, sparing no expense for what is for him the most precious thing in the world."

Severus got slightly closer to Hermione. If one did not know any better, one would think he was whispering sweet nothings in her ear. "He plays a dangerous game but excels at protecting himself. He is like a deranged child, really, connecting the dots between people to collect fantasies to feed his hollow mind, deeply enjoying the game. That is the most chilling thing about him, because it makes him unpredictable. Thankfully, we truth-seekers never deal with him directly. Anyway, if it were not for a few paintings' reports, the whole story may as well be a fable. It matters not when the information is sound."

Nodding her understanding, Hermione realised that their thighs were touching, his hand was on her back and his breath was tickling her hair. She hastily stood up and stretched her limbs to cover up her troubled state.

Struck by an idea, she kept her eyes on the rug and asked, "Janus could help me find my parents, couldn't he?"

He was quick to nip that idea in the bud. "No. Firstly, you have other options. Secondly, I have already used his services too many times, in one form or another. It is too dangerous. Lastly, I believe I already told you I would help, so you don't need him. Just be patient."

She was still thinking about a way to find Janus, if all else failed; he could see it. So he took out the marble and showed it to her to distract her. But he shooed her hands away when she attempted to hold it. Her curiosity satisfied and aroused all at once put her in a more tranquil state. He stood up as well and took off his cloak. Finally daring looking at him, she said nothing at the less than subtle makeup, but her eyebrows quirked up when she beheld his complete outfit, and the way he was undressing. _How does he make me look so attractive? Almost dangerous and sexy… No, let's not think about that…_

"Why are you taking your clothes off?" She asked when he did not stop when he ought to. His behaviour was strangely different, that day.

"I'm glad you asked. I am making myself more comfortable. But after I am done, I wish to talk to you about something that happened to me on the way to Janus' lair."

He lifted the fabric of his silk lilac teddy over his stomach. She marvelled at the mature ease and almost feminine grace with which he was animating her features and handling her body. _It's so not fair.._. She gasped when she saw the huge bruise on which he began applying the balm. Her only reaction to his narration was to cover her mouth with her hand in shock. Seeing no recognition in her expression, he took a piece of parchment." His hand hovered over it. The projected images of his assailants appeared in motion. She moved in closer and he took the time to enjoy the proximity. Its effects were not fading, that was for sure. At her request, he froze the image and zoomed in on the girl.

She asked, "Do you see a scar near her left eye?" Severus finally noticed it, but it was hardly perceptible. So, she remembered something, after all…

Her gaze became unfocused as she was reminiscing. She walked to the window, used the wall to find some support, and looked outside without seeing anything in particular. "I remember her. But it was so… I haven't thought about it for so long…" After biting her lips, she added derisively, "Isn't it strange that after all that time worrying about wizards who did not accept Muggle-borns, that I would be attacked by a Muggle hating the magic in me?"

_Is she going to pretend that made sense? _When her silence stretched for too long, he edged her on, "Would you care to elaborate?"

She turned around to face him, but her posture resembled one of a child caught doing something wrong, from her hands trapped on her back against the stones to her side to side motion. "It's -it's the kind of mistakes you make when you're young and don't know any better. I mean, when you unwillingly cause pains too big for you to comprehend to others. I guess you're also familiar with that. It happened before I came to Hogwarts. It was even before the time children begin to grasp that others have a real life of their own, and are not only supporting characters in theirs."

He was not sure what she meant by that at all. He moved closer to her and sat on the desk, as if that would help him get closer to her point of view.

She had gone on talking during his motion, eager to relieve her conscience. "Thinking it would help me socialize with other children, my parents sent me to a camp during the holiday, you see? It was uneventful, really. Because the others bore very little interest to me, I spent most of my time in the tiny library, absorbed by stories. But sometimes, I had to go out with them. Well, one day, I was by myself on a playground. On the previous day, I had been jumping in the wind, on a hill, and at some point I'm convinced I was floating in the air."

She smiled while recalling the exhilaration she had felt at that moment. "So, there I was, failing to repeat the performance. I disappointedly went to play near the toboggan, when two girls began to tease me. I don't even remember what about, probably the usual. Don't ask." She warned him. "Anyhow, it was not the first time, nor the last one, obviously, but something in me broke. Because, the one you met was particularly vicious. Before you showed me that picture, I remembered only that she had beryl almond-shaped eyes, and maybe greyish almost blue hair and faint freckles. I don't know why, but her words cut right through me. And I just wanted her to stop. But even when I asked over and over again, she refused. She really was relentless, and her friend just helped her." They were both so disgusted by their childhood bullies that he unconsciously raised his chin in defiance, while her eyes burned invisible enemies.

She finally got to the real origin of Severus' wound. "So, without thinking, I bent over, took a handful of gravel and threw them at her with all my might. And I don't know… Something happened to her eye, or eyes. All I remember is that the adults were mad at me, and the children were avoiding me even more. I remember the shame I felt so vividly, though… When they brought me to the hospital, I learnt somehow that she had not been blinded as I was led to believe. I never saw her again, until you did. I just buried the memory because of the image of a body lying on a table under a sheet and the pale metallic grey and blue of the hospital, and that overwhelming sense of shame."

A load had been lifted, and the one it had been passed on to felt confused, relieved the danger was mild, and a little overwhelmed by all the pressure she put on herself. She was like everyone else, bearing the scars of child abuse performed by her peers. He had been there, and she had reacted like anyone would. No one had being durably hurt, and that girl was ridiculous for holding a grudge for so long. _Even I would not be as petty…_ He patted lightly his companion's forearm, as if it could convey his dismissing her misguided guilt. He considered it might be one of the sources of her attempts at defending everyone.

He stated soberly, "I see… Just to be clear, when you said "hating the magic in me", what did you mean?"

Sort of flattered by the interest and embarrassed by having to compliment herself, she replied, "Oh, I meant the richness of a different inner life."

"Obviously…" He was still unclear of what she meant by that, but refused to appear daft. He clapped his hands to close the discussion.

Regardless, she heartily apologised for getting him hurt even though there was no way she could have prevented it, short of a going back in time. Even if she knew it was not exclusively her fault, she so vividly remembered that feeling such a disappointment that it made her even more rueful. He dismissed her worries and even kind of tried to make her feel better by flippantly probing her for other skeletons in her closet. Once again, it was definitely the cauldron calling the kettle black. After she answered by the negative, he mentioned an idea that had been floating in his head since the attack.

The ritual required a loss of some kind. He had lost his Mark, but she remained unchanged. And her hair was her most recognisable feature, and perhaps symbolised a lot for her, femininity emblem notwithstanding. Although magic could make it grow back easily, it would be of poorer quality and less healthy than naturally grown hair, much like magically raised plants. Personally, he would be glad not to have to deal with that bushy mess anymore. Although she was not enthused by that idea which she considered a long shot, she was not shallow enough to refuse. They discussed the proceedings. Hermione left to prepare herself psychologically and get a book on fashion and hair care given by a family friend, in the hope it would inspire her take more care of her appearance.

Meanwhile, Severus ate a snack set by the house-elf next to the balm. Minerva had probably requested it for him. As Hermione was entering his quarters again, he was biting in an apple seated on a stool in the bathroom, wearing a light bathrobe with Gryffindor colours. Coming in, Hermione flushed and concentrated furiously on her task in order not to give herself away. He refrained from sneering at her lack of subtlety. He would pounce when she least expected it.

She had a golden pair of scissors and the book in her hands. Vanishing the apple core, he hastily soaked his hair under the showerhead. He vaguely thought she would offer to wash it for him but she stayed behind him, concentrating on the contents of the book. So, he quickly washed it, not caring about the knots he was creating. _Good riddance._ He grabbed a towel and the non-magical concoction he used to make it more manageable which he emptied on his head, for the last time. Finally, he sat back down, facing the mirror. She let go of the book, thinking that she had rarely felt less womanly, well, apart from that time... She had no idea how to cut hair, and Severus had only ever cut his own hair on rare occasions.

She settled on some kind of a Pixie cut. Severus pretended he did not care but privately approved. It was not vanity on his part, but if he had a chance to be pleasing to the eyes, he would not let it go to waste. She went to work. With an odd gulping sound, she gathered her hair in a ponytail, pressed the scissors against its base and cut the biggest chunk of it. She turned her head a tad to the side, as if it were too painful to watch.

"Pay attention!" He snarled at her for fear of getting injured. Glowering at him, she firmly used a comb and the pair of scissors. After a while, Severus had closed his eyes. _Good!_ She had been annoyed at the way he had been pulling away from the scissor blades. _As if she would hurt him or herself…_ He even had the nerve to reproach a little lip-quavering on her part. After no more interruptions, she worked efficiently and finished stripping an important part of her past off of her head. They each beheld the head which was shockingly bare in the mirror. Severus stood up and elegantly brushed the hair off his shoulders. He examined his reflection from all sides, almost twirling on the spot. In that moment, they both assumed they had to say something. But since what came to mind was along the lines of "You-I look quite fetching", it would simply not do. She smiled at her work. The natural volume of her hair hid the limits of her hairstyling skills. Feeling lighter, Severus thought the short hair suited her bone structure.

Hermione burst his little bubble of superficiality when she reminded him of their most important objective. But he had no high hopes for that idea. Less disappointed than they should, they cleaned up the mess. Truly, she was tickled by her new coiffure. He benignly suggested she should sit down on his stool and stood behind her. She looked a little suspicious so he placed his hands around her neck and gave her a pleasant short massage. Her glazed look told him it was time.

Settling his hands on her shoulders, he used the full power of his stare on her through the mirror. He lowered his mouth closer to her ear, and began his interrogation. "Now, Miss Granger, be so kind as to tell me what's on your mind."

Even as she tried to deny it, she began perspiring and fidgeting. _This ought to be good_, he mentally smirked. It reminded him of his best days as a petrifying teacher. _How the power was intoxicating back then…_ Coming back to the present, he looked into the reflection of her eyes, rather his obsidian ones. They were harder to read than the others, but the mind behind them was currently vulnerable to an accomplished Legilimens such as himself. But, what he was currently doing was a combination of body language reading and adapting his reactions to hers. He circled around to face her, and held her chin between his fingers. He watched her nervously glance between the tub and the sauna and biting her lower lip. Really, after comparing his old teeth to his current pearly straight ones, he wished he had paid them better care. Her hands were burrowing between her thighs, as though protecting her crotch. _What did she do? Did she mishandle that part of me?_ He forced himself to calm down.

"Now, I have grown to expect a decent amount of sensibleness from you. Was I wrong?"

She responded "No" in a small voice.

"I know you did something you are ashamed of in this very room." She stared down wordlessly and twisted her hands, so he delivered the last blow. "I thought you would understand after today how the acts you feel guilty for have a way of coming back to hurt you, or others."

Her head snapped up and she angrily said "That's not fair! I've done nothing to hurt you. I've just…" She lost her voice.

"If you did nothing wrong, then why don't you tell me about what you did right? I will make things easier for you and walk you through it." She did not want to say anything to him but he still went on. He paused between every sentence, waiting for her to react in any way. She mostly nodded faintly. "You came here to unwind after a difficult week. As I generously offered, you used my sauna. But you also used my bathtub without authorization. You feel guilty because of that. But only a little; something else happened there, no there." Severus was no prude, and there was only so much denial one could indulge in. Luna's words came back to him, taking a whole new dimension.

And he did not know what to think or what to feel. Part of him felt angry and violated. But another part was empathic and envious. And a third part, which was kinkier than he ever thought himself capable of, found that scenario rather arousing. That last part wondered what she had thought of him and of the experience. But he had to decide what to do about the situation rationally, in respect with the possibility of going back to his body sooner or later, or not at all. It seemed to him it would be better for everyone involved to settle on respectively doing the deed in private, protecting the integrity of their bodies, and never mentioning it to anyone else or each other. That was the responsible thing to do. But it did not mean he would not milk the situation for its worth, so to speak.

"Miss Granger, I know what you did and I am disappointed in you. I did not expect such debasement from you. What would people say if they knew?"

"I did not plan on it! And as far as other people are concerned, nothing irregular has happened. I came here for stress-relief, and… In the sauna, I remembered reading something about alternating the effects of cold water and steam. I did not think you would mind me using your shower. So, that's what I did for a while. Then, I used an exfoliating glove to get rid of the dead skin cells. Finally, I used perfumed oil that appeared on the inside shelf. I was just massaging it into the skin, thinking about nothing in particular when YOUR penis just got erect! And it was not the first time either. Do you know how unpleasant it is to take so many cold showers?" _Boy, do I…_ "Well, I walked over to the bathtub again."

She did not mention the fact that she had examined herself fully in the mirror for once, pleased by the attractive v-line at the bottom of her stomach. She had reflected on the fact that her caring touch was doing wonders for his body. Little did she know how literally closer to the truth she would come. If he had wanted to stop her from talking, he would have been hard pressed to do it by then. The dam had been broken, and her conscience was free to expunge itself even more completely. "I was preparing to immerge myself in the cold water when it dawned on me. Why should I? The whole point of the afternoon was to feel good and by that time I could not see why I should end my relaxation time that way. So, I warmed up the water and sunk in. And I tried not to think about the e-erection, but as I soaping myself down it became impossible to ignore. I accidentally rubbed against it. And, well, after a while, it stopped being accidental." She could have grinned at the memory of her release if she had not been anxious over his reaction. She stopped talking, his kinky side's curiosity was left unsatisfied.

In a deceptively sweet tone, he dug deeper. "Is that so? Are you trying to make me believe it just happened? You were just along for the ride and had no power to stop it, is that it? That is so weak, it is almost an excuse worthy of Ron. How would you feel if the roles were reversed? Would you not feel violated?"

She was almost supplicating. "But, I didn't violate anyone! For all intents and purposes, I did nothing more than handling the only body that I can call mine at the moment. I know we are supposed to treat each other's body like some sort of rental and give it back in the state it was in, but it's impossible. We are living in them."

He let go of her chin, only to suggestively trail a finger over and between her breasts, through the opening of his bathrobe. "Does that mean I can do everything that constitutes good living for me in your body? What if I wish to use dangerous substances for momentary pleasure, and have lots of sex if I may be so direct?"

He was almost about to free her breasts from their confines, and it felt indecent to Hermione, despite the fact that it was hers. Those were not for his eyes to see, or his hands to touch, especially when he was only trying to punish her. She finally caught his hand, surprised it took her that long to dare doing it. "Would you stop doing that?" When he effectively stopped, she went on answering him. "Yes to your leading question, but there has to be a line. I mean, this situation is still new to me and I haven't figured out all the rules yet. We should avoid things that would damage our bodies durably. And when in doubt, we should ask each other's opinion. For instance, as I would like to be there when I lose my virginity, I would appreciate it if you found another way of entertaining yourself." _What a weird conversation! _It helped to clear the air between them but she really, really, wished not to have to discuss her sex life with him, and ask for his permission to pleasure herself. She nonetheless pressed his fingers to stress the important points.

"You certainly did not wait for my permission for handling my privates." He evaded her clutching hand, and adjusted his bathrobe, adopting a dignified posture.

He had a point, among others. It was infuriating how perceptive he was, and yet how little understanding he chose to show. "I am really sorry about that. It's true I let myself be governed by those urges. Admittedly, I was also curious. But I should point out I'm hardly equipped to deal with your body's drive. I am not saying your body's needs are stronger than mine, but still, I have not yet completely adjusted to it. And as for asking for your permission, it may come as a shock to you but you are not exactly accessible. I did briefly check if you happened to be experienced in that department."

He mocked her pitiful justifications with clenched teeth, "How kind of you…" He was a little angry at her, but in a way, he was more interested in winning the debate than the subject matter. "So, you are basically saying it's my fault, either because of my lust-driven body or my temper. Putting that point aside, what about you give it a try? Ask away."

With a breath of relief, she tentatively did as she was told, "I don't deny my responsibility, you know? I am very sorry if I hurt your feelings. If I had not been afraid of what you would think, nobody would have been the wiser. I don't have a lot of questions today but I shall try. What should I do to make that mistake up to you? How do you feel about me continuing the -er same activities? What about me doing it with somebody else?"

Enjoying being on the moral high ground, he looked down at the little minx, and used her best prim and proper tone of voice to make his demands. "We cannot change what you have done. I expect you to show more candour in the future, or I shan't be so lenient. If we are making up rules right now, I want you to promise me you will not disclose information that sensitive or intimate to anyone else without my absolute consent."

"I will if you will", she stubbornly responded. "And we can't use that information in an argument."

"I agree on both counts. I will grant you your second demand, but not the third one. Why? Did you have someone in mind?" He prayed she had not been thinking about Harry or Ron, or even that Seventh year girl Hufflepuff he knew she thought very attractive and kind.

Relaxing a little, she explained, "No, it was mostly theoretical, or in case one of your acquaintances asked for it, or it was required to get information. I just don't know how you see rapports of that nature: like thinking intimacy important, or linking the number of partners to your degree of maleness."

"I don't have to divulge that kind of information to you. But in the interest of openness, I will say it depends. I do think a degree of intimacy can be pleasurable but have nothing against one night stands. I don't evaluate my "maleness" based on that criterion if at all, nor do I have any interest on attesting for it. But if I did, I would consider myself manly enough. Now, you answered that last question for yourself, but what about the other one?"

"Which o-? Oh… Yes, well, it's only fair, I guess, as long as it is does not go deeper than my usual forays into those waters. And would you please stop it with the sarcastic eyebrow moves? This is embarrassing enough."

"Pardon me if I embarrassed you…" Sarcasm was hard to turn off and fitted him so well. She stood up to leave.

He stopped her. "Fine, I don't want you to throw another tantrum. I believe we've reached a compromise. Now, if there is nothing else, I think you should discretely return to your own quarters. It is getting late, and my strenuous weekend is far from over yet."

Conscious their souls remained unmoved for all their troubles, they both felt relieved when she left. Hermione was unapologetically replaying that special moment in her mind: the sensations, the texture and taste of her emissions, the peculiarity of it all... She would enjoy that part of their predicament. Severus himself put that matter on the back of his mind. Instead, he checked that he was truly alone before posing in front of the mirror in his new hairdo. Tomorrow night would be soon enough to take care of sexual urges. He was not in the mood yet.

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_"Cause it's witchcraft, wicked witchcraft _

_And although, I know, it's strictly taboo _

_When you arouse the need in me _

_My heart says yes indeed in me _

_Proceed with what your leading me to"_

So, I had the great pleasure of enjoying the full grape harvesting experience. I am talking: team work, closeness to nature, freeing physical exhaustion, grape fight, foam (from wine fermentation) baptism, and so much more. I once felt like I was flying over the beautiful valley from my high vantage point, with the soothing warm wind on my slightly aching body. I ate incredibly delicious raisins, just picked from the vines, washed with the rain, fresh, sweet and acid all at once…

From our epic grape fight, I learned that "war" is a messy and unjust affair. I am sorry to say, bravery and honour are not as common as one would hope. A real hero refused to retaliate, but unfortunately got corrupted.

But I am back, full of people's life stories, and with a renewed hunger for life.

Zarathustra46, you give and you give, and what do you get in return? A big thank you, that's what.

The Three Graces were great motivators. Thanks a bunch. So, you all rejoiced at the break-up, how mean… ;)

I dedicate this chapter to Luna de Papel, for a kind advice diplomatically given.

bluefirefly5: You have not heard anything more about the speech because you have to wait for the day of the_ "Unicornis Ablutio"_. And I am happy to benefit from you "seeing the light".

violet1994, and others: About Madam Rosmerta, "I calls them as I sees them." :)

Chris: I am so glad to see you continued reading, and that you mentioned the periods. I wondered how it would feel. If hers were very painful, I suspect his reaction might have been funnier. But she told me they were not so… I had no control over it. ^^

Enjoy this chapter until I get around to publishing the next one.


	16. Libertango

**Chapter 16: Libertango (Itzhak Perlman)**

As it would turn out, the following night would prove too early for it. Because, on Sunday morning, Hermione was told by Minerva about Severus' approaching trial time. It would happen before the end of July. That warning helped them brace themselves for the official letter which arrived on Monday. From that point on, Hermione harassed Severus to perfect his defence, while people kept annoying him about his new haircut which some girls claimed was due to the recent break-up while some boys gawked at him.

Anyways, it was not that he was not invested. They were trying to protect both of their freedoms after all. But always digging deeper into his motives was not pleasant as it revealed a deeply unfavourable side of him. She even went so far as to examine his reasons to join the Death Eaters, even though that trial would focus on the events after Voldemort's first demise. They went over everything he did to help the cause and maintain his pivotal role in Voldemort's ranks.

As far as he could make it, she was particularly anxious because of Buckbeak's condemnation in spite her thorough research for his defence, before she changed the past. That confirmation of his hunch was unpleasant to say the least, even more so since he could detect a dim pleasure at having bested him and the Ministry, hidden under her anxiety. When he reminded her he was quite different from a Hippogriff, she huffed and explained acidly that "What worries me is that he had been as innocent as you are and still had been condemned."

She used her own handwriting to send an enquiry on wizards' trial practices to Madam Marchbanks and Percy. She claimed she was researching the differences between the Nuremberg trials and the Death Eater ones. She probably would do it for real, anyway. She even visited Winky to ask her what she knew about those practices from her time living with Crouch. But she still refused to divulge anything about what went on in his home.

As she was working in the Library, her eyes fell upon Madam Pince stalking the shelves in search for misbehaving students. Once again, she noticed she looked at her differently than the others, with a sort of wary expression. He could not have hurt her, could he? Severus' memories of the Library showed him as a young teacher talking with her more than expected. After persistent examination, her growing headache proved worth it when she understood the secret behind their unlikely association. He had discovered something about her when he was preparing his first year as a teacher. One may wonder why a self-respecting witch would decide to spend her days as a Librarian whose main goal was to keep the books untouched and the people out.

Predictably, she loved knowledge and their hardcover vessels passionately. But, she was special in that she made up her for her lack of social skills and powerful magic with an extraordinary memory. To put it simply, she could remember all the information contained in every volume, except for the Restricted Section and Dumbledore's private reserve which he had authorized the School to use. It was part of her contract with the School that little by little she would have full access to those books. Absorbing that missing part of knowledge had been her main aim for quite some time now. If the students knew all that, they would realise the reason why she was so anal about the state of the books was because any change messed with the architecture of facts she had laboriously assembled in in her mind.

If only Hermione had known that before, she would have attached her person to the Librarian and have questioned her about every bit of information. She possibly would have forgotten all about making friends with Harry and Ron for that Empress of the Written Word. And that was without even being privy to the fact that answering enquiries about books was a contractual obligation, although she was still free to elaborate or just give references and directions. Hermione marched over to Madam Pince, and triumphantly asked for advice on material to use in Muggle Studies. Glowing at her much detailed answer, she realised it was her chance to learn more about soul exchanges, because she doubted Severus had asked her since he was so insistent on keeping a low profile. Upon hearing about Hermione's unsatisfying forays into even the Restricted Section, Madam Pince half-heartedly recommended her to directly discuss the matter with an expert in the field.

"One of the overseas orientation guides mentions a graduating student of The Salem Witches' Institute preparing a doctoral thesis on soul magic. Here it is. Just copy the information you need and put it back where it belongs."

After thanking the new light of her life, Hermione did as she was told. Sitting at a table she sensed her guide leaving, but still sending suspicious looks her way. Ignoring the hostility, she messaged Severus to discuss the preferable emitter of the letter, and they decided it would carry more weight with his writing and signature, although it would depend on the result of the trial. She promptly wrote a letter requiring an interview with the specialist in question, through the Salem Institute.

As the trial date was fast approaching, Hermione received nasty looks and ill-wishes. The Prophet had leaked the information that Severus' trial would be held in the absence of the press and any of the general public. Only the sentence and potential interviews were to be published. Thankfully, she also received encouragements from most of the staff and some students, as well as strangers. Neville and Draco among others stayed after class. Draco wanted to apologise for not having trusted Severus. Harry assured her he would be there with a positive testimony on that day. Since she was still not allowed to have a personal discussion with him, Hermione made it grudgingly clear that it did not matter to her and that the subject of his parents was still taboo, for the time being.

Finally, on the 25th of July, while most the British wizarding world was preparing for the _UnicornisAblutio_, Hermione travelled to the Ministry where she had to surrender her wand for the proceedings. Severus, who was accompanying her, perfectly concealed his nervousness. Minerva could not come but had made sure to send them off from her office. Just as they were entering the well-lit courtroom, Severus felt his pocket heat up rapidly. He barely had time to warn Hermione before gripping the active marble Portkey. She was on her own. He had the distinct feeling that, once again, he was being robbed of his life. Even though he was relieved to avoid being trapped in that room and being judged, he thought he ought to at least be there to support his own defence. Nevertheless, he found solace in the certitude that she cared enough about what would happen to him to give it her all, even if it were for selfish reasons.

Although they had indulged in a gratuitous "physical" on the previous night, Hermione's whole body felt constricted in anguish over their fates. What if she had missed something? What if the Ministry wanted to make an example out of Severus? What if _Veritaserum_ ended up being used and she suffocated under its influence and that of the confidentiality clause? Severus had assured her his body had built up a resistance, but their situation might have changed that fact. The room in itself was quite pleasant, and her seat lacked restraints. It faced twelve people including the Minister who would act as jury. She was glad to see that, according to her research, it seemed like a mostly reasonable group of people. The witnesses were waiting in another room. Kingsley listed the charges held against "Severus Tobias Snape". Hermione had to account for Severus' responsibility in Dumbledore's death, and Fred's mutilated ear, and student tortures during his days as Headmaster.

He sternly asked, "What do you answer to those accusations, Professor Snape?"

"The two first tragic occurrences happened as direct consequences of my following Albus Dumbledore's orders and trying to stop Voldemort." Some of the jury were surprised he did not call him the Dark Lord. "I accidentally wounded Mister Weasley while attempting to protect him from a Death Eater's attack. I extinguished Albus' life because he requested it of me for several reasons. He was already dying and weakened and wanted to be spared sufferings and tortures at Death Eaters' hands. He also wanted to die undefeated so as to spare the world from his powerful wand accepting the wrong master. Finally, it had been rendered necessary to spare young Draco Malfoy from committing a crime and ensuring Voldemort's trust, still on Albus' order. Concerning the tortures, I did everything in my power to protect the students while maintaining my cover as Voldemort's follower. I will add to that that on that front as well, I was merely complying with Albus' wishes. He thought my killing him would place me in the position to do just that. As always, he proved to be right."

Duly noting her response, people from the jury asked Hermione questions that she handled globally well. Then, the Minister asked for the witnesses to come forth in an orderly fashion. Draco came in and testified on the Unbreakable Vow on behalf of his mother, and gave his account of Dumbledore's death, with an apologetic look on his pale face. After that, Harry made his longest speech to date on the goodness of Severus Snape.

"This man is a hero and deserves a medal instead of being threatened to be thrown in Azkaban." He then proceeded to describe Severus' good deeds from his first year to the present. It was as though every suspicious feeling had faded away. His Occlumency lessons were described as gracefully given to an ungrateful and disobedient child. The nastiness of the Potions lessons was forgotten. He pointed out the abnegation, the selflessness and the bravery of the wizard. He mentioned the memories, which the Minister himself irregularly guaranteed were legit. Harry stressed upon the fact that "Voldemort would not have been destroyed if it were not for this man's dedication."

Although Hermione was mentally rearranging his speech, she was proud of him, if not a little worried about such a radical change. She thanked him with a nod, although Severus might disapprove. He beamed like a child. Maybe Severus made him feel closer to his mother than anybody else had managed to before. If at first, Severus' body used to tighten at the sight of him, Hermione's mind seemed to have tampered with that reaction. After that it became clear the support of Harry and the Minister had won most of the others over. In the interest of general fairness, Hermione considered they were too easily swayed by subjective elements, but was mollified that, in the great scheme of things, the ultimate justice prevailed.

Madam Pomfrey testified to the curse eating at Albus. Furthermore, his Ministry portrait requested to be heard as well. He revealed the hiding place of a secret will which was found and stated that in case of Severus' survival over Tom's downfall he would be entitled to the ownership of a Muggle cocoa plantation and chocolate factory in South America generating a lot of profits with its fair trade products. In the will, Albus was thanking Severus for his services and asking for his forgiveness for making so many demands of him. He did not expect the present to make up for lost years, but he hoped he would take it as a sign it was high time to spread his wings and try to find a welcoming patch of sky under which he could restore his health and find some happiness.

Hermione would make sure to get the transcript of the trial for Severus. He was in for quite a shock. She imagined him visiting South America. With the right sun-block, he would probably be the better for it. She believed that the unexpected gratitude and regard to his feelings might touch him most. Some students testified on the tortures inflicted by the Carrows and on insight pointed out instances during which their Headmaster had surreptitiously prevented the worst of it. It seemed like the most favourable trial Severus could hope for. And indeed, with a smile from Kingsley and a majority of votes, he was acquitted of all charges, and even thanked in the end. It had been fair; the way only events having occurred after his first trial had been mentioned. But at the same time she could not help wondering if it were a travesty of justice. Indeed, none of the damaging elements from his past actions and behaviour had resurfaced. Nevertheless, she was relieved and relaxed enough to smile, causing some of the jury to smile back at her. Yes, it should be a happy day it the life of Severus Snape.

* * *

As he arrived to wherever he was, Severus quickly drew his wand and cast a Shield Charm. But he was alone. _Blast_, he silently protested when the marble exploded in his hand. Only guided by the light entering through the interstices between the shutters, he made his way out of what appeared to be a richly decorated office with white moulded plaster walls and ceiling. A computer and a telephone on top of a desk indicated he might end up in the presence of Muggles. He took off his robe. The white dress under it would do, as the air was a little stuffy. Still, he kept the black fabric on his forearm, to hide his wand. He cautiously opened the door. The corridor was plunged in darkness. Suddenly, a chill between his shoulder blades warned him he was not alone. As an expert at creeping up on people, he recognised a master at work. A smartly dressed man with distinct Asian features was examining him. If it were not for his sudden appearance, he could have passed for an opulent and refined Muggle scholar. Severus would not be able to verify his theory since the man merely held out a heavy folder covered with silver and green leaves, and dismissed him without a word as though he was a terrible inconvenience on his time. After entering the office, he gestured in direction of the corridor. And as soon as Severus had passed the doorframe while keeping his eyes on him, the door closed, and the corridor lit up. It was decorated with gorgeous tapestries and lavish wallpaper, in a mixture of ancient and modern style. _Not that I know much about that_, he reflected observing the slightly worn carpet.

He could have Apparated away, had he chosen to, but the lamps were guiding him down a path, by quickly igniting and waning as he approached. Following one's curiosity in a potentially dangerous environment was an impulse he rarely gave into. But for some reasons, he was intent upon knowing where those lights led. One simple explanation could be that he was not keen on facing Azkaban or a lifetime of escaping the law, and wanted to put off knowing the verdict. As he had told Hermione, he logically expected to find his crimes officially vindicated but they were crimes nonetheless. And so much was riding on Ministry politics that he refused to be too hopeful, for a change. So, he followed corridors, descended stairs, and it became clear he was in some kind of grandiose theatre or Opera House.

All of a sudden, he heard a haunting whistled melody. It came from his right. The light path had stopped in front of what he supposed to be the first of a row of entries for the audience, with one lonely lamp remaining lit. Feeling a little rebellious and suspicious, he slightly pulled the closest red curtain open, and ended up in a balcony on the side of the stage. It was all empty, if it were not for a woman kneeling downstage. She was wearing a simple white gown smeared with blood. It alarmed him at first, but remembering where he was he remained silent. From where he stood, she looked quite delirious. Her whistling was irregular as she was rising up and staring at her hands as though they were covered with something she could not shake off. Her expression grew more distant and more elated as her eyes lost focus. Forgetting whatever the stain was, she rose to her full height and smiled.

At last, her voice resonated in the empty space. It was powerful and compelling, yet plaintive and sad. Her demented smile grew wider as she appeared to desperately address invisible people who always seemed to disappoint her expectations. What a sorry creature… Now, that was somebody he could commiserate with, except that she was so jubilant in her delusion and beautiful in the exaltation of her pain. After her voice hit the last note, her persona gradually changed into one of a more regular character. She grinned and shook her head at the echo of her voice. She seemed to mock the intensity of her performance, all the while feeling like a weight had been lifted. Tilting her head back, she audibly inhaled the familiar scent of an old theatre. To her, that was magic. At that moment, Severus woke up from the daze induced by her performance. A little part of the weight he had been carrying around had vanished. He stepped back in an impulse to avoid being more bewitched. It caused the curtains behind him to let through a little light. It was fleeting, but with the only light in the room coming from the wings, and the singer's slight head movement, it caused her to catch a glimpse of her new shadow audience.

Pleasantly surprised, she mischievously winked at the sweet girl with whom she had inadvertently shared a wonderful moment. Instinctively knowing that speaking might ruin their strange connexion, she bowed to her. Already stepping backwardly to exit the box, the seemingly shy girl surprised her with a distinguished curtsey. From that point on, she would become her own special Phantom. And although they would never meet again, that she knew of, every time she would perform that particular piece, she would strive to honour her mysterious watcher. She left the stage.

Severus felt privileged indeed. It was yet another sign that there was grace in the world, and that he would not be spending his life untouched by it. It was however a pity he still remained on the side-lines. For a long time, he sat on a woolly seat, staring at the then dark stage. The silence still bore traces of the otherworldly voice. He would not have been able to recount any specific thought before his bracelet warmly informed him that he was actually free.

His indescribable emotion at the news proved to him how very worried he had been. He was human, after all. He was now only bound by his own demons, which he had learned to live with. _Is my existence actually becoming tolerable? So it seems._ Later that day, back in his quarters, he found the transcript of his trial, a note from Hermione, and a wrapped gift.

"Dear Severus,

I can't tell you how pleased I am for you (and yes, relieved for myself). I expect there will be a toast in your honour this evening, so be there. I knew you would not want me to crowd and annoy you on your special day. So, everything you need to know about today is here. Many people have congratulated me on your behalf, today. You'll find a list of their names in the back of this parchment. The Prophet has also been graceful enough (ha!) to give me a verbal account of their article to be published on Sunday, in the hopes of snatching an interview. I told them you were too busy, but you can obviously change your mind. I expect that after such a romanticized version of your life inspired by someone's recounting of Harry's speech to Voldemort, you will have many witches and wizards swoon over you (which is not to say you aren't exceptionally lovely in your own right). I just hope I will not have to deal with the manifestations of that phenomenon. You know, I find it curious that Neville, Harry and Ron have been pursued ardently for their involvement in the victory. Yet, I find myself with quite an unchanged status, don't I? Although it might be less tedious for you, it makes one wonder. Well, I doubt you do, but still. Anyway, finding a fitting "Congratulations on avoiding Azkaban" card is so hard, these days. If I had more time, and permission to explore your memories further, I might have found you a more suitable gift. But considering the circumstances, this one might be fitting enough. I put another gift under the table. I bought it in London for Harry's birthday. Just so you won't choke on your curiosity, it is a suit. I thought he might need something elegant to wear when he visits the Muggle world. Please make sure to let him know that the message of this present is that although he had bad experiences there, he should not forsake his heritage. Well, I am putting the final touch to the mock exam. The students had better make me proud or I shall be very cross indeed. By the way, Minerva almost hugged me but settled on a warm congratulatory handshake. Be thankful you did not have to live that awkward moment… She told me in confidence that she had a special announcement concerning all the staff. I wonder what it is.

Again, congratulations!

See you around,

Hermione"

He put the letter safely away in his trunk. Her writing style made her cheerfulness quite obvious. And had she been there, she would probably have flung her arms around him and chatted joyously. He astounded himself by wishing she was celebrating with him. Since their predicament, she had undeniably become a very bearable presence. And those were not numerous in his life. When he was tempted to look for Harry and Ron for company, he frantically distracted himself by opening his gift. It was Muggle chocolate. How very… sweet… Maybe she was confusing him with Ron. He began reading the story of his emancipation. _Saved by the Potters, that is the story of my life_. Really, he would never have predicted such an admiration stemming from sharing his memories with Harry. At least, he had finally knocked some sense into him and he did not think him disturbing for harbouring love for his mother for so long. Despite his usual dislike of alcohol, trying to get her body drunk sounded about right, but he was unsure of the effects of alcohol on her body. Her experiences had been rather tame. Moreover, he still had to go through dinner. And a hangover potion was not an option before he knew more about the ritual. _The folder!_ He could not believe it took him that long to get to reading its contents. After doing so, he reflected on what needed to be done. In the end, he would not be alone that night.

He effectively got a toast and a chanting of his name before dinner. In spite of Hermione's gleaming eyes, he was not profoundly affected by the recognition. Maybe he was getting weary of the spotlight. _That was fast._ Was it possible that he had wanted the glory for so long it was past its due date? Somewhere beneath his slight complacency, there was contempt for opinions so easily swayed. Hermione was smirking. She was pleased for him, and hoping his visit to his informant to have been fruitful. She was close to breaking character. _No matter, really._ Even he, who was only known to smile at people's disgruntlement, could rejoice when finally gaining his freedom back. Her expression changed into one of puzzlement when she heard Minerva's other announcement.

To motivate the students to get no lower than an A in all of the subjects of their mock exam, she declared they would be rewarded by choosing costumes to be put on by the whole staff and having their picture taken with them. Apparently, she had consulted most of the teachers on the idea. But he had not been one of them, and neither had Hermione. He was glad to be sitting with the staff, and not having to listen to the students' prognostics and suggestions. If he knew them well enough, which let's face it was not difficult, they would probably imagine something ridiculous for him (as grateful as they may be, they did not forget how he had treated them for so long, he would not either) and possibly something suggestive for Hermione. What if the reverse happened?

As they were prone to procrastination, Severus reasoned that those objectives were impossible to reach. An idea box for the costumes was set up in the hall, under a board with the names of the staff and empty spaces for numbers of votes and types of costumes. Each student could give his or her vote for every one of the staff. Now, that was shudder inducing. Democracy for the misinformed could have dreadful consequences. He could see it on their enthusiastic faces. Hermione could hardly contain her laughter at his expression. As soon as they were done, they had a meeting in Hermione's living room. He thanked her for the chocolate and she caressed the top of his head in response. She seemed to be quite taken with doing that, for good luck, goodbyes, and such. Although it seemed like a patronizing gesture, he let her, for it was a sign of care. They discussed the possibility of having to dress up for the students. She wanted to bet on the outcome of the exam, and he clearly stated he was sure at least one student would fail, probably in History of Magic. Hermione argued that the rare students having chosen that subject should get good grades. So, she took that bet on the condition that he would grade fairly. There would be no stakes higher than the pleasure of asserting one's superior judgement over the other's. On to more important matters, they sat down around the folder. And he recounted what he had learned. He would not say a word about the singer, though. It was an enjoyable new memory that was all his, no one else's.

"Janus came through but our work is far from done. Although it is true the creators of the spell have died, their daughter did not. She had a Muggle friend, and their closest remaining neighbours' affirmed they loved each other. After the revelation of the whole family's death, Achates Li, the Muggle in question, was sighted in Italy, arm in arm with a woman whose description matched some of the youngest Crownthorn's features. He is currently working as a trilingual guide in Venice, while the woman is building and repairing customized gondolas. They live in a small canal side house, with no distinguishing qualities. They also sell natural remedies having inspired potions to make ends meet. One of their business partners is an itinerant apothecary who claims they are tranquil and unremarkable people who keep to themselves." Hermione's fingers were wriggling in anticipation of finally getting answers. Severus shook his head to warn her it would not be so easy. "Although they live together, they can be seen going on dates with other people. See?" He showed her pictures of the people aforementioned, although it made him seem like a sleazy gossip magazine editor. "My point in telling you this is that, since I have my weekend commitment and we need our situation to be sorted as fast as possible, you will have to go to Italy on the first weekend of August. We won't have time for it before the Ceremony, the exams, and the preparations for them."

Her past experiences proved she was more than capable of taking care of herself, but she still needed careful training. He had enemies to protect her against, and more experience in getting information out of people. Luckily for him, she was inclined to improve herself, keep herself alive, get her body back, and visit Venice. And she was proud to be considered mature and powerful enough for it, especially by him. From that day forth, until her departure, they would spend hours daily to prepare for every eventuality. And she would become passable in Occlumency and Legilimency. In so short a time and under such strenuous circumstances, no one should expect a miracle.

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I chose that tango played by Perlman, because, if that chapter had been filmed, I imagine it would go back and forth between Hermione's and Severus' storylines, as in a suspenseful and dramatic (and beautiful) dance. By the way, you should listen to the next chapter's song/title on the playlist. It is beautiful.

I read the idea of Dumbledore's secret will (although Severus "just" got rich from it) from a fanfiction I read on this website. I cannot remember its title, so tell me if you know. I will give credit where it is due.

Thanks for your reviews. They made me feel like I was plunged into a bath filled with tickling champagne. Never happened in real life yet, so thanks for the experience. And nothing says thank you like a little gift. Therefore, in case you are interested, I will tell you that this story should end in about fourteen chapters. Is it a gift, or a bummer? I wonder…

As always, I am grateful for Zarathustra46's help.

Chris: I like where your imagination is going. ;) That wasn't steamy enough for you? Oh dear… Just kidding. Yes, there will be some "steam" later on, but I think it will be different from what you have read or expect (it has to be). I hope you will enjoy it nonetheless. There will be a little more on Severus and Janus later on too.

Guest: You are still here! Yay! You flatter me. No, don't stop! ;) You share and enrich my vision ("my vision", like some grand artist ^^) and that makes me smile. Thank you.

violet1994: "Severus made Hermione look hot with that dress and choker!" So you see it too? J About Hermione, she deserved it. Because, technically, it was a violation of their agreement. It is only okay with us, because it is Hermione, a woman, and she is doing what many of us have thought about, sort of. In the real world it would be a problem, but in this fantasy, we are allowed to dream. But, not completely without consequences. Morals? Yawn… ;D

And this chapter is dedicated to you, by the way.

bluefirefly5: So, not convinced by the haircut? ;) And Severus is a gentleman, how dare you? We will see… Ahhh, Hermione's guilt, yes… I think it was mostly a child's guilt. You know how it can be overwhelming. She is better equipped to deal with it now.

"An eye for look and fashion?" Maybe he cares too much about people' opinions. And they will "explore their physical sensations with each other eventually."

I am going for a run, so you relax, enjoy a delicious carrot/chocolate cake for and from me and your weekend, and continue inspiring me.


	17. Moving Pictures Silent Film

**Chapter 17: Moving Pictures Silent Film (Great Lake Swimmers)**

A few days later, the day of the Ceremony finally arrived. Numerous Aurors were patrolling the grounds and making sure everything carried on without interruptions, while all morning a crew of officials had been setting the seats and stage on the Quidditch field which had been enlarged for the occasion and the seats had been filled in quite early. People were anticipating the first _Unicornis Ablutio_ of that magnitude in centuries. Hagrid and Luna could be seen walking in and out of the Forbidden Forest. At some point, her father took Hermione, Harry, and Ron aside to apologise for his conduct before eagerly joining the duo at the edge of the forest and exchanging a loving hug with the apple of his eyes. Severus sneered inwardly at the recollection of their reckless visit and considered that to save the one he truly cared about he would have trapped them more efficiently and delivered them to the Death Eaters without remorse. Luna would not have fared well at Malfoy Manor for very long. Greyback liked nubile preys, be they crazy or not. Besides, Hermione would surely think it was water under the bridge, since she had protected him against a fatal punishment in spite of the danger.

At last everyone who was expected to come was there. The people who were about receive medals and acknowledgments of some sort were seated in the rows closest to the stage. The strong and stable energy emitted by the Minister facilitated making everyone settle down.

The Ceremony began with a quick recounting of the events leading to that day. Kingsley ended it with the announcement of the latest arrests of known Voldemort partisans. Then, he announced the unveiling of the new Fountain in the Ministry Atrium which represented our galaxy and carried the name of all the fallen in the form of stars, apart from the Death Eaters' and other criminals (with the exception of Regulus Arcturus Black). The objective was to symbolize the return to a more natural order and to remind people of the bigger picture. It was vague enough to be interpreted in many different ways. Plus, it was pretty, let's be honest. Finally, Kingsley gave out many awards, and modestly received his own.

The reactions were varied. Most people let an official pin the medal on their chest, and quickly shook Kingsley's hand. Some awards were given posthumously, and some people just did not show up. Others cried hysterically. George sported an "F" on his robe and silently accepted one on behalf of his brother. A year later, he would vigorously complain about not using the classic Muggle fake cut hand prank on the Minister that day. "That would have been epic!"

Severus watched himself receive the highest wizard recognition under applause, and felt nothing. He remembered being so mad at Black for escaping his due punishment and costing him that recognition, but it truly was not worth the losses. Come to think of it, he probably had just wanted to make the fleabag suffer more than he had wanted the reward.

One elderly witch threw her Order of Merlin, Third Class on the floor, and ardently clamoured that the Ministry was just a bunch of stinking hypocrites. Personally and tactfully handling the matter, the Minister sent her to the infirmary tent set up for later, nearer to the Lake. He apologised on behalf of the previous administrations and assured the audience of the changes to come.

"Speaking of which, it is time to give our full attention to Hermione Granger, who had a pivotal role in helping Harry Potter and the rest of us to overcome Voldemort. She maintained a standard of academic excellence throughout that ordeal which allowed her to graduate from Hogwarts earlier than her former classmates, without attending her last year's classes, and attaining the highest scores on an impressive number of Subjects. She is actually one of the youngest teachers to ever teach at the School, even if she is only acting in a substituting capacity. Her students admire her patience and knowledge. Let's give her a big round of applause!"

Severus cast a furtive derisive look towards her, as if saying "You see, I did play nice." But she was clutching her wand, mentally going over their scenography. Her nails were probably drawing blood from her palms, but she hardly noticed, and he disapproved her mutilating him so. He sent her the message: "Haven't you learned by now that when I set out to do something, I always get results?" He had felt a little nervous but mocking her concern restored his confidence. He knew what to do, why, and how. The only thing he had to be careful about was portraying the conviction of an idealistic youth. He channelled his inner-outer Hermione and discarded everything he knew about people and their denial abilities. He stood up under the enthusiastic clapping, calls, and whistling of her friends, students, and admirers. He even recognised a Curse-Breaker who had asked him out after his haircut. Facing part of the crowd, he made a memo to often turn around to address everyone.

He looked around, and captured everyone's attention like only he knew how. "_Sonorus._ Thank you, Minister. You are too kind." _Smile, be sweet, and charming._ "And I am honoured to have been offered a forum in which to address my community. This day is supposed to celebrate the end of the war, and the people who made it possible. But without meaning any disrespect to anyone who has lost something or someone to this fight, I am here to tell you the war is not over." He paused for dramatic effect. His stare was penetrating and the echo, inescapable. The whole audience became more focused, the anguish of the war still too fresh on their minds. "Voldemort was not the creator of evil. He was a symptom of a diseased society. What did his power depend on? Misinformation, miscommunication and mistrust. Our prejudices allowed him to overcome people who could have rallied against him much sooner. He expressed a part of us that we ignore but which affects every part of our existence. Every one of us, every one, believes in some way in the superiority of wizards, and especially purebloods."

He put on his palm over his heart, for the mea culpa part that should help people sympathize. They were in fact looking uncomfortable, and disbelieving. "I personally strove for scholarly achievements in part to prove my lineage was no handicap. Like many others, I have abandoned the Muggle world as though it could not compare to this one. The truth is they complement each other. Our differences as well as similarities need to be treasured and cultivated." _Yeah, that's it: time to show how passionate and Muggle-loving I am, eyes blazing and red-cheeked, and whatnot. _"We all are part of an ecosystem. We depend on each other. Our gifts do not make us superior. Distinguishing ourselves from the rest of the world by reducing them to the word "Muggle" does not make us superior. Calling ourselves humans does not make us superior." _Oh, that rhythm! It's working._ "We elevate ourselves when we show qualities like kindness, tolerance, and generosity. And this is why the war is not over."

He faced the buffet area, a distant look in his eyes. "Today, we did not acknowledge many brave individuals. They helped make this world a better place, but we overlook them constantly. Many Squibs are considered sub-wizards and ridiculed. Yet, they participated in the war efforts and suffered as much as we did, if not more. House-elves are currently preparing healthy hors-d'oeuvres for all of us. They likewise have been affected by the war and many of them were actually warriors during the last battle. My closest acquaintances know and lightly mock my efforts to promote house-elves rights. They themselves are often appalled by the idea. Nevertheless, it does not mean they should not be treated with at least some decency. Mistreatment of house-elves has led to Voldemort's downfall." He heard some snickers, which turned his tone chilly. "Yes, you can scoff. But Dobby, the house-elf, has saved Harry, Ron and me among others from Bellatrix Lestrange and her master. And another elf has been vital to destroying one of Voldemort's most dangerous weapons." Although the four of them had decided to keep the Horcruxes information secret, he could still allude to them. "A half-giant fought on our side, out of brotherly affection. Centaurs have been treated like lowly half-breeds by many of us, and perceive reality in a much different way than us." He glanced at some people having actively lobbied against their rights. "And yet, a herd of Centaurs also fought the Death Eaters. Some werewolves fought on Voldemort's side, others on ours. But they all ultimately fought for more consideration. The law discriminates against them and keep them from living with dignity, because of a sickness forced upon them. How is that fair? Will Remus and Tonks Lupin's son grow up to learn his parents gave up their happy future with him for a world intent on judging his father for something he had no control over instead of assisting him?" He nodded at Andromeda, and then turned to some of his Gringotts colleagues, for support to his claims. "Goblins are slighted by wizards. Yet, they play a pivotal role in our economy and are part of a rich heritage that we could learn from. We need to open ourselves up to each other and other species. I don't ignore the fact that our history and current state of affairs reinforce those prejudices in our daily thoughts and actions. There are many conflicts to be resolved. We primarily have to fight ourselves. This war has just begun but only your courage and tenacity will bring about the real peace."

He made a point to appear ominous and grave, like a more reliable version of the Divination teacher. "If we don't make that effort, it will only be a matter of time before another menace feeding on our weaknesses rises. This is why I only ask of you to look inward, and to question your behaviour. Become more aware of injustice in order to prevent it. In the spirit of that message, I will leave you with an extract from a Muggle story in which is parodied a dictator not so different from a certain monster we know and loathe. It has been cropped and some words have been changed to make sense to all of you."

Severus was spent, but still raised his wand to assist Hermione with the projection. Her wand pointed to the sky, while she remained seated rosy-cheeked among the staff. Now that Hermione's amplified voice had quieted down, the stunned silence was pregnant with puzzlement, incredulity, and anger. But the audience quickly got engrossed in the magically replicated cinematic storytelling.

"I'm sorry, but I don't want to be a Dark Lord. I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone, if possible, Muggle, Squib, pure-blood, and Muggle-born. We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other's happiness — not by each other's misery. In this world, there is room for everyone. And the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful, but we have lost the way. Greed has poisoned men's souls, has barricaded the world with hate, has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. Powers that give abundance have left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical. Our cleverness, hard and unkind. More than power we need humanity. More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost.

"To those who can hear me, I say — do not despair. Dark Lords die. And the power they took from the people will return to the people and so long as men die, liberty will never perish.

"Don't give yourselves to brutes — men who despise you — enslave you — who regiment your lives — tell you what to do — what to think or what to feel! Who drill you, diet you, treat you like house-elves, put you under the Imperius Curse. Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men. You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don't hate! Only the unloved hate — the unloved and the unnatural!

"Don't fight for slavery! Fight for liberty! You, the people have the power — the power to create happiness! You, the people, have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Let us use that power! Let us all unite! Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work; that will give youth the future and old age a security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power, but they lie! They do not fulfil their promise; they never will. Dark Lords free themselves, but they enslave the people! Now, let us fight to fulfil that promise! Let us fight to free the world, to do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and magic will lead to all men's happiness. The clouds are lifting. The sun is breaking through. We are coming out of the darkness into the light of hope, into the future, the glorious future that belongs to you, to me and to all of us. Look up, people. Look up."*

The deafening clapping that finally followed did not surprise Severus. It surely came more from the excitement caused by the entertainment, and release from the moral lesson. When they quieted down, the Minister thanked him demonstratively. Some people were cleverer than the whole.

The ceremony was brought down by last minute recaps on the ritual. People were still standing up from their ovation. They spread around to let Severus through, a little weary of their new self-appointed collective conscience personified. Hermione's long hand brushed against him in passing in discreet gratitude. To her it was just the beginning, and she was thankful for his help making that happen. He really was a showman. They went their separate ways as people were moved onto the buffet area where tables and trays of food were set. The first people there showed some hesitation after what they had heard. But unsure of what to do, they shrugged their reservation away and began eating. After all, they were not responsible for the treatment of Hogwarts' House-elves, and the Ministry's mishandling of award giving. Others followed their lead and forgot there were any concerns to be had. Many were displeased by the audacity of the young supposed prodigy. Who did she think she was to lecture them? It was no concern of theirs anyway. If there really was another war brewing, then it was not theirs to fight. They had already given too much.

Still, they all had dealing with the beings she had mentioned. At seemingly random time, her words would come back to them and make them wonder if they should act in a different manner. Sometimes, they would. But at that time, they decided to stop discussing the war and deaths to wait for the sunset ritual. In the meantime, they would talk idly, play games, relive their time at Hogwarts, help the current students revise and advise them on their future careers. The atmosphere was reminiscent of the hours before the last Quidditch World Cup.

Hermione had taken refuge on top of a tree by the Lake. Too many people were coming up to her in apology for past offences, and with gratitude, or in plain curiosity and opportunism. Severus wanted her to react in a non-committal way and be wary of surprise attacks. She was mentally replaying their discussion on swimwear the previous night. He had been adamant he should wear 1910's style. But prior to her escapade, Hermione had heard the girls in her dorm speak of the revolution happening in that branch of fashion. The 1920's were in. Frankly, she could not see much difference, but she did want to fit in. He argued people would hardly notice. Then, they spent a surprising amount of time discussing a choice of colour. They did all that while altering her "indecent" two-piece and his very old "trunk" he wore on an occasion he refused to discuss. At least, his body was familiar with swimming. It had come easier than flying to both of them. Her bathing suit would be in a 1910's style dark blue and white, very proper, comfortable, and evocated a sailor outfit. She completed it with a hat. She giggled at how quirkily charming the whole ensemble was. Instead of mocking her, he remarked his appearance had changed. She told him about her daily routine. She had used her knowledge of dentistry to take better care of its teeth too, and it felt great. Although the bathing suit was far from snug, he knew his body was much more fit. He was wearing an indigo one-piece with white dots in the 1920's fashion. And thanks to her meddling, he was thinking of working out more. Because he enjoyed eating much more these days, he had made her body overcome her malnutrition phase. But if he stayed inside too much and was not physically active enough… _Does it matter? Maybe it is sign of respect. Give me my body back in better shape than you received it in, and you will get- What? _Maybe it was the same courtesy that made them block the other's memories. He did anyways, and she must have been doing the same or she would have been more depressed.

So, there she was, hidden from the others, observing the crowd and wishing she could wear fewer clothes under the summer sun. Branches cracked underneath her. She cast a protecting Charm just to be safe. Luna effortless slid upward and sat beside her. Without bothering with platitudes, she congratulated her for her speech. When asked how she knew it was her initiative, she just nodded as though it were a private joke they shared. They stayed silent for a while. Although they were facing the same view, it was certain that they were contemplating very different thoughts. Moments later, Luna shared a brilliant idea with Hermione.

"I would like to make the first ever illustrated book written from the point of view of a house-elf. I have already collected the whole story from Harry. Instead of your usual research and essay writing, I thought you might enjoy creating a poem to honour Dobby's memory. There is no rush, though. I am working on the artwork which will not be animated magically. It would be nice, thought, if it could be ready before Christmas time. And Harry has decided not to keep anything from the earnings, but has agreed to have his name on the cover to help the sales. Apart from reimbursing my art supplies, I don't want any part of the profits either. You can decide on a payment for your time, if you want."

But they both arranged for the potential profits to go to S.P.E.W. _What a wonderful project!_ And it was nice to be solicited for something more than just intellectual work. That task required sensitivity and artistic talent. Galvanized by their venture, she almost unbalanced the both of them when she impulsively tried to squeeze her friend against her. Untangling her hair from a branch, Luna announced she would send her Harry's notes later that week, and promptly returned to Hagrid.

The sun would set in an hour and the Headmistress's chanting would begin soon. People were advised to breathe deeply and join in when they felt in the right disposition. The words would not matter. It was all about generating positive vibrations that would make the unicorns feel welcome. Everyone was disrobing and getting in the water. Normally, there would be ogling and judging. But there was a hopeful solemnity that kept people quietly floating on their backs. In the centre of the Lake was a small platform on which stood the Headmistress and the Minister. Even in swimwear, they inspired respect and obedience. Several smaller wooden platforms on the Lake were carrying pairs of Aurors and Medipeople to make sure everything went smoothly, and that everyone had a chance to get in the water, at some point.

Hagrid, his half-brother and Luna were the last to get, in at the beginning. Thankfully, there was enough space for everyone. Shimmering forms were emerging from the forest. How beautiful they looked under the crimson sky! Severus and Hermione had convened to remain inconspicuously close in case that ritual undid the previous one. Severus was wondering about the unicorns. Hermione's body should make him able to approach and touch them. But what if his presence inside of her fouled her somehow? Would they shy away from him like so many before?

Hermione was pondering the Merepeople situation. It stood to reason that the cleansing power would travel using the surface of the water as conduit between the people in need. It would be a waste of time and power to fill the whole Lake with pure energy. Would the creatures of the Lake be affected by it? How would they be affected? She imagined different scenarios. But since her wand was safely hidden in her bathing suit, she did not worry too much about deep water mysteries.

A tremor went through everyone. Countless embodiments of clarity had settled around the Lake. It felt as though the Earth was taking a deep breath, and it smelled like ozone. The milky ripple was initiated. Severus' hand found Hermione's. For a while, they felt nothing more than vertigo, losing themselves in the slowly appearing stars. It was as like gravity had been inverted. They forgot the others even existed separately from them. With each breath, they could sense millenniums of History witnessed by the healers of their souls.

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*  wiki/Charlie_Chaplin#The_Great_Dictator_.281940.29  (wikiquote)

_"Oh wake me please when this is over_

_Oh when the ice is melted away_

_And the hunger returns_

_I will be the same but older_

_And maybe twice the bear that I thought I was"_

I want to go swim in the Lake too, darn it!

Zarathustra46, you make the reading experience so much easier on the readers.

THANK YOU, bluefirefly5, violet1994, and Guest! Your reviews keep me going. "Yay" indeed. Severus is free in the eyes of the law, at least. About Minerva, it could be considered out of character, but I think she is looking for a change of pace. She wants to help the war survivors put the past behind them, and above all, make happy memories to remember Hogwarts is a safe and loving environment and not a battlefield or a graveyard. Maybe if the students and teachers cannot come back to their previous relationship, because of what they have experienced together, they can create a new one, a sort of friendly camaraderie.

To celebrate the fact that YDKWYM is about to hit 10.000 views, here is the translation of the next chapter title/song: "Only Yesterday" (Hier encore).


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